


Golden Hours

by abracadabra_37



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 1950’s, Arguing, Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Knives, Multi, Slow Burn, like this is a sloooowwww burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 103,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abracadabra_37/pseuds/abracadabra_37
Summary: CC Tinsley gets back to work after a break in a lazy town. He is overwhelmed and impressed by the Golden Hour Killer, who just can’t seem to stop leaving bodies and... gifts?Ricky Goldsworth is ready to drag the new detective down with him, or is he?Tinsley soon finds himself in a whirlwind of trouble when he gets involved with the Goldsworth family.
Relationships: "Night Night" Bergara/"Legs" Madej, Banjo McClintock/Francesca Norris, Holly Horsley/Original Female Character, Ricky Goldsworth & C.C. Tinsley, Ricky Goldsworth/C.C. Tinsley
Comments: 103
Kudos: 101





	1. The Detective is Back in Town

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, hope y’all enjoy this.

The precinct was always quiet in the early mornings. Nobody came into work earlier than 7, so empty desks and closed doors littered the space. Workspaces left tidy by the police, who are probably sleeping right now. It was a sleepy town, so what was the rush to get to work? The clicking of heels was never a sound heard at 5 in the morning, but here she was in the nearly empty building.

Holly Horsley was a woman on a mission. A short mission for now, but the task at hand played into a bigger cause that she was happy to serve. Continuing to walk, she noticed a short, stocky figure walking up to her. Well he’s not supposed to look like that, she thought. He looked tired, like he was up early for something.  


“Miss Horsley, I presume. Good morning,” he said in a gravelly voice, probably a result of the cigarette packages and lighter he always carried. He had grey hair with black peppered into it, and striking light blue eyes. He held out his hand to shake.  


“That would be me, yes. And are you the gentleman I spoke to on the phone a week ago,” she questioned.  


“Do you have an office? I have all the necessary papers in my case, but I would rather we sign this paperwork officially sir,” Holly stated.  
  


”My door’s that one there,” he pointed at a door with the name COLLINS on the frosted glass, “I’ll tell him that we’re signing his papers. Do you want him to come to my office?”  


“That’s not necessary, Chief Collins. I’ll meet him when we’re done signing.”  


Thomas disappeared around a corner and Holly walked up to his office. She flicked open her briefcase and got a small file with the paperwork inside. Not a minute after she was done he opened the door and grabbed a pen from his desk.  


“Shall we sign then?”  


A minute of the scratching of pen on paper and shuffling documents later, it was ready for the final signature. Holly quickly penned her name on the piece of paper, and it was ready.  


She and Collins walked to the offices, a short but dark hallway of the building. Well, it would be dark, except for the glow from a frosted glass window. There was no name on it, and it illuminated some of the door and bland grey walls.  


“Here he is. A bit of an oddball really, but please don’t feel bad taking him. His talents are definitely wasted here. Don’t really know why he even moved here in the first place,” Thomas said when they were at the door.

He knocked and walked in, with Holly in tow. In front of the window, he cast a tall silhouette against the wall.  


“Detective Tinsley? Ms. Horsley is here for you. She’s the one who asked for your transfer,” the Chief said.  


Tinsley turned around, and he was pretty much the person that she expected to see first. Tall, owns a trenchcoat, and looks like a mess.  


“Ms. Horsley, it’s nice to meet you. Have my boxes arrived at my new apartment yet?”

Holly took the hand outstretched and responded, “Yes. All of your things have arrived, your office here is empty, you are perfectly ready for your transfer.”  


“Thank you, Ms. Horsley. I look forward to working with you. It has been a pleasure working with you, Chief Collins,” he shakes the older man’s hand, and shrugs on a tan trenchcoat.  


“Goodbye Detective, may your skills be useful to you in this new opportunity,” Collins said smoothly.  


“Yes, thank you, Thomas. Now if you will excuse us we must be on our way. Don’t want to be late for his next big case,” Holly steps out the door, step one complete. She walks out the door with Tinsley in tow, who’s holding a small suitcase.

-

The drive was 10 hours on the way back to Southern California. They should be there by 6 or 7, if they stopped anywhere. Holly was glad her passenger seat was spacious because god that man was tall. Built like a beanpole too. Sadly, however, she did not have much headroom. He was kind of slouched down but didn’t seem to mind, as his eyes were closed and relaxed.  


“

Do you mind if I ask you some questions before you drift off, Detective,” Holly asked.  


Tinsley opened his eyes and responded, “Shoot as long as I get to ask you some, Miss Horsley.”  


“Holly, please. I won’t start off with anything too deep. Did you enjoy your stay in Oregon,” she said as she pulled onto the highway.  


“The scenery was lovely, the people were nice, and my apartment was good. Not much crime though, which was kind of a disappointment.”  


“I suppose that would be a downside of a quiet, small town,” Holly chuckled.  


“You have no idea, ma’am.”  


“I’m sure I could figure it out, given time, I’m a detective too ya know. Or at least I used to be.”  


Holly laughed and the two continued speaking in the car for a few minutes, laughing and smiling, getting to know their new co-worker. Holly noticed Tinsley was reserved when it came to his past or life. Tinsley had been waiting to ask about his transfer, as he was genuinely curious as to why anyone would want him back.  


“Why did you ask for me to transfer?”  


“You’re a real riot Tinsley, ya know that,” she said sarcastically, “As I hear, you’re a very talented individual in the field. I don’t pretend to know why you moved all the way from Chicago to goddamn ‘middle of nowhere’ Oregon, but we need your help where I’m taking you.”  


“Listen, I get what you’re saying, but there are plenty of other capable detectives that would be happy to help you, whatever it is you actually need help with. You also seem to be quite qualified yourself, if I may say. Why bring in someone like me,” Tinsley sighed.  


Holly paused, thinking of what she wanted to ask, before calmly asking, “You’re the perfect man for this job, even with your odd attitude. I assure you of that. You don’t seem like the type of detective to mess around when there’s work to be done. But, if you really didn’t want the transfer or the job, you could have said no. You could’ve stayed back in Oregon, so why didn’t you?”  


Tinsley remained silent, as he looked out the window for a few moments. There was a reason why he was there, taking the job. He just couldn’t be sure of exactly why yet.  


“You can’t teach an old detective new tricks, Miss Horsley. I hope you know that.”  


“Ah, but that’s exactly what I was hoping for, Mr. Tinsley. We need a fresh perspective on this case. Hey, how about we talk about the case when we stop for lunch. That’ll give you a chance to sleep, process, or whatever, and I can drive.”  


“Do you mind turning on some music if we’re not going to be talking?”  


Holly turned on whatever radio station was available on the stretch of highway they were on. It turned out to be music, much to Tinsley’s silent relief. He looked out the window and began to watch the scenery go by, no matter how little of it there was.  


Holly was still trying to figure out the person sitting next to her in the car. He was odd, so Collins didn't lie about that. Between the trenchcoats and the startling caffeine addiction, he fit the bill for the job, if they were in a moving picture. His career didn’t lie though. He was a tight shut book, that was for sure. Holly knew one thing though: she was going to find out what that book was made of.  


After driving in almost silence along the highway for the span of about 2 hours, Tinsley was reading, face away from Holly. In about 5, Holly was ready to stop for lunch. She pulled into a town with a diner sign, she did not want to get fast food or drive-in food. The place didn’t look too crowded, and she needed to stretch her legs. Tinsley woke from his trance with a start as she pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car.  


“Big Sue’s Diner. I hope they have good coffee, I missed my mug this morning. Do you want me to take over driving after we eat?”  


“Sure, I’m getting a little sleepy at the wheel anyways.”  


They opened the door to the light blue, white and grey diner. The walls were adorned with various posters, advertisements, and pictures. Only a few people were sitting at the metal tables. Holly hopped on a blue barstool, closely followed by her new co-worker. A waitress dropped by two menus silently, but with a smile. Holly brushed a piece of her silvery hair out of her eyes.  


“What do you think you’re gonna get?”

Holly studied the menu for a minute before stating; “I’ll get some pancakes and bacon probably, you?”  


“I might look at the menu for another minute if that's okay. I don’t want to mess up when the waitress comes back over.”  


Tinsley flipped his menu to the other side for a moment before the waitress came back over to their table in her very blue and white uniform.  


“What can I get you guys to drink?”  


“I’ll have water for now, thanks,” Holly looked towards Tinsley, her gaze soon followed by the waitress.  


“Can I get a black coffee with no sugar?”  


“Gotcha. I’ll get back with those in a minute for ya.”  


The waitress walked off with their drink orders. Tinsley kept looking through what seemed to be the whole menu again.  


“Introvert?”  


“Pretty much. Part of why I chose to become a detective, actually,” he responded.  


“You seem to have gotten good at giving blunt responses though,” Holly laughed.  


The tips of Tinsley’s ears turned pink as he chuckled along. The waitress was back with their drinks, passing off two glasses to the guests.  


“There ya go, are you guys ready to order?”  


Tinsley decided to start, “Can I get scrambled eggs with bacon and hash browns, please?”  


“I‘ll get pancakes with sausage and orange juice please.”  


“No eggs for you?”  


“That's right, thanks.”  


The waitress walked back to the kitchen to deposit a few pieces of paper from her notepad. Tinsley took a long drink of his coffee. It wasn’t shit, he’d give it that at least. Probably better than what he could make at home too. Holly watched the window from her corner seat, it was quite a clear day.  
A few minutes later, she turned her attention to Tinsley. “Listen. There’s not much I can say about this one in the company of others, but why not get some basics down, right?”  


“I’m ready when you are.”  


“When I take you to your apartment, there will be a file on the table. That’s everything we’ve compiled on this matter so far. We know we’re dealing with a serial killer, so it would help you to read up on the files that I’ve provided. Especially if you get invited to a crime scene or a post mortem exam. This department is pretty open to you being there, and will probably ask you for opinions when you get called down for something,” Tinsley nodded, “and then there’s the events that you’ll be going-“  


“Wait, nobody said anything about having to be at public events.”  


Holly sighed before tiredly explaining; “Tinsley, nobody knows you and you know nobody. It helps in pinning down suspects if you know the people you’re looking for. Pay attention. I’ll make sure to inform you of anything else you want to know or need to know if and when it happens. And one more thing; if anybody bothers you about work that isn’t yours, don’t listen to them. You’re on this case alone, and I expect you to treat it professionally. Ask for help when you need it, but respect the workspace of the others working alongside you.”  


Tinsley looked down at the counter for a moment, thinking.  


“Okay, just warn me or shoot me a message before any social events. And don’t expect me to socialize that much, I do have a limited amount of being able to deal with certain kinds of people.”  


“I hope I’m not one of those people, Detective Tinsley.”  


“If we’re going to be working together, I would appreciate it if you would just call me ‘CC’ or Detective. Just to make your life easier, and mine less awkward.”  


“Pancakes and sausage for you, and eggs, bacon and hash browns for you,” the waitress interrupted.  


“Thank you,” Holly and Tinsley said at the same time.  


Tinsley continued to sip his coffee, and Holly cut into her buttery pancakes. They were actually quite good, for a diner that she’d never heard of. Pretty buttery and light. Tinsley thought the same about his scrambled eggs and hash browns. The bacon was crispy though, too crispy for Tinsley. It had a bit of a burned taste to it, so he drank more of his coffee.  


“I have no idea how people do that. Drink straight black coffee, that is,” Holly said.  


“It’s really more of a preference, or you can just force yourself to like it because you’re not getting any sleep anyway.”  


Holly laughed through her response, “I think I’ll stick with my orange juice and healthy sleep schedule, thanks.”  


Tinsley chuckled out “Your loss then,” before taking a long sip of his coffee mug, “I’ll just get more work done.”  


“I do like tea though. Earl Grey is my favorite.”  


Tinsley slathered on a fake British accent as he said, “Oh dear me, I shouldn’t have assumed any less of you, Miss Horsley.”  


“Do you just have a natural talent for butchering people’s accents, Detective? And for the record, I’m from Vermont. My dad was from London.”  


Holly and Tinsley continued joking around through their quick meal when the waitress came back and dropped off a check. Tinsley quickly reached for it, refusing to let Holly pay.  


“Nope. You’ve driven this far and paid for gas. I get to pay for the food.”  


“What gave away that I was planning on paying the check?”  


“You reached for your wallet when you noticed the waitress walking over. Don’t worry, I always tip.”  


Holly sighed and mumbled, “Well if you’re going to pay, then I’m going to the restroom, then I’ll be waiting in the car.”  


Tinsley watched as Holly walked away, then pulled out his simple, brown fabric wallet. He wasn’t quite sure what fabric it was, it was a little scratchy but durable, so he liked it. It wasn’t too full of anything, just his ID and the little cash he kept on him. He set two 20’s next to the check, enough for an eight dollar tip. He gulped down the rest of what was in his mug, then decided a bathroom break was a good idea.  


Holly was waiting for him by the car when he came out of the restaurant. She tossed him her keys and he fumbled for a second to catch them before securing them in a hand.  


“Are you sure you want to drive the rest of the way?”  


“Why not? Just give me directions if I need to pull onto another highway and when we get into town.”  


“Well alright then, just one more thing though; this car is my baby, my pride and joy. If you put a singular scratch on this car, you will meet an unfortunate accident before dawn tomorrow.”  


Tinsley nervously laughed before getting behind the wheel and pulling back out onto the road. Holly picked a new music station and closed her eyes. Tinsley found the highway and watched the road closely, keeping Holly’s threat in mind. If he was gonna die, it wasn’t going to be at her hands.  


After a while of driving Holly’s car, Tinsley started thinking about the scenery around him. Then about what might happen next in his book, he did love reading. He was sad he couldn’t think about the case, however, as he had no case files and he was technically in somebody else’s car, so no distracted driving.  


Two hours later, Tinsley was definitely appreciating the coffee. Holly had stirred from her sleep and was now reading a car magazine. A bit odd for a woman, but Tinsley remembered that Holly really liked this car. She must just like reading about cars, then. She’d probably put in a lot of work towards this car, and not just the sunny yellow paint job.  


“Why is your car yellow? You don’t strike me as that much of a ‘yellow’ person, no offense,”  


“Oh, you’re totally right. If I had my way, the car would be light blue or silver. But my housemate, who I share the car with, wanted it to be yellow. The paint was also cheaper and looks better with my neutral clothing, or so I’m told.”  


“No the car is totally awesome, I was just wondering.”  


Some Elvis Presley song came on the radio and Holly turned her attention back to her magazine. Tinsley kept looking at the towns that they would pass occasionally. Soon enough one magazine became two, then two became three. And it was almost four o’clock. Tinsley reached for the air conditioning, and his hand was slapped away.  


“Doesn’t go any further than that without hurting the car, pal.”  


“What’s my new living area like? Are there any good restaurants? How many people live there?”  


Tinsley was pretty curious to see what living in a seaside town was like. He’d never been to a beach in his life. He grew up in Chicago, and then he moved to Oregon a year and a half ago, so he’d never been anywhere south of there.  


“It’s kind of a smaller town, I’d say almost 700 people live there. The area itself is nice, some of the people, not so much. It’s really hot in the summer, sorry for you, trenchcoat boy. I haven’t looked for any restaurants, but me and my housemate really like a certain tacos place.”  


“You’ll have to show me sometime. Who do you live with? You keep mentioning a housemate.”  


“I share rent on a townhouse with a woman named Grace. She’s head nurse at the local hospital, so I don’t see her much. You’ll meet her sometime, I’m pretty sure. When she’s not at the hospital, she likes to wear the poofy tea skirts and shirts, she’s a medium-sized blonde with green eyes.”  


”Will I have to share my apartment with anyone?”  


”Not unless you bought somewhere with shared rent,” Holly chucked.  


Tinsley sarcastically said, “Phew! Thought I would have to socialize and share my coffee maker, close one.”  


Holly momentarily giggled before becoming enthralled with an article about how to clean an engine or something like that. Tinsley kept on driving, missing the coffee now.  


Somehow the car ride continued to be silent, as the occasional turning of pages slowed down, and Holly fell asleep again. The sun was just barely teasing going down when she woke up again. She directed Tinsley to the town, which would take them even further into the dark, the sun now drowning in buildings, making the world go almost dark.  


They pulled outside of Tinsley’s apartment building, and said a quick goodbye and goodnight, consisting of the general ‘I’ll see you soon’ and ‘sleep well’.  


Tinsley grabbed his key from the landlord, Joey, and began the trek up two floors.  


He found his red door and pulled it open to reveal all of his boxes in place. There were also a few case files on top of his counter, he’d assumed those were the ones Holly said to read. They seemed pretty medium-sized. Not annoyingly big, but not as if they only had like 3 pieces of paper in them. However, Tinsley was honestly tired from the drive, something he’d never thought he would say. So he found the box labeled ‘comforter’ and pulled it out of the pile. Thankfully his furniture, including his new mattress, had already been delivered and mainly set up how he would like.  


He walked down the hall to the bedroom area, looking at how his bed was in the exact right spot. So he flopped onto the mattress after slipping on a pair of sleep pants and a loose shirt he had in his bag. He didn’t really want to brush his teeth, he’d do that in the morning.  


The comforter was all the warmth he needed, this was a Southern California summer, after all. And what do ya know, his feet actually fit on the mattress with the rest of his body.  


He drifted off, knowing that today and tomorrow would most likely be one of his only days off for a long time.


	2. Tinsley Meets a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm..... Tinsley meets a cat.

For Tinsley, Sundays were lazy days. Unless he was on the job or working a big case, he would always cancel all plans on the first day of every week. Sadly, this Sunday did not entail lying in bed or on the couch with a good book and a cup of coffee.

Tinsley, instead, had a little more than 24 hours to unpack the boxes in his living room. There were no more than 8 of them, he thought as he grabbed his pocket knife. 8 of them, excluding the ones containing Tinsley’s books.

He had started keeping a bookshelf back in Chicago, and it was still pretty small, as he liked to go to the library. But that didn’t stop the books he did have from coming with him. He supposed if he really wanted to stack them all up in a tower, they’d be up to about his shoulders. It was a fun thought while it lasted before he set upon putting his beloved books in their respective areas. Favorites go on the nightstand, work-related books (and all the files) in the office, and others go in a small book cupboard he keeps at the side of his couch.

Next was the kitchen supplies, including his beloved coffee maker and very stained white mugs, then the bathroom items. He set upon making sure the lamps were in place. When all that was done,Tinsley remembered that he had to fill his closet with the remaining box.

He went down to the end of the hall to his bedroom, passing his clean bathroom and office. He decided to just admire the office while it stood clean for the day, as that was the last time it would ever be clean or organized. The filing cabinet was the only thing he could ever get to stay organized.

Tinsley hung up his nice work shirts and pants, then folded some t-shirts and pajamas onto a shelf. His socks and underwear were chucked on the next shelf, shoes going by the door, or partially underneath the bed. The last things he pulled out of the box were his collection of plain dark ties and his gun. He always made sure to keep some form of protection near him. One in his house, the mandatory one on the job, and his knife that he kept around in his pocket. Generally, he didn’t think that the knife would defend him that well, but he just did it anyway.

The ties were dumped into the sock and underwear shelf, they were all practically the same anyways. Hard to match socks, easy to find the other two.

Picking up the cardboard box and collapsing it, he went to stack all of them and leave them below his bed frame. He made the bed with his sheets and comforter, pillows flopped on only seconds before the man himself.

He just stayed there, face down, for a good few minutes. Then he rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. His watch said it was nearly 5. He had some more seconds to lose, so he just stayed. And thought. 

Then there was a tapping at his window. Not eerie or anything, especially not when it was followed by a meow. Tinsley abruptly sat up to see that there was a cat at his window. It hadn’t been there last night. Tinsley got up and unlocked the window, wanting to see if this cat was friendly. He was met with a summer breeze and a stinky tuxedo cat.

“Hello there lil fella, what are you up to?”

The cat stared on at Tinsley before strutting off into the house, unbothered by the presence of a new human, it seemed.

He started to walk over to his keys, going to get some form of takeout or fast food for dinner, seeing as the bright blue fridge was empty. The cat meowed and winded in between his feet. Apparently, it was friendly, when Tinsley was trying to leave the apartment, that is. He gave it a little scratch on the head and noticed that it did not have a collar. He added some supplies to his grocery list and walked out of the door. The cat decided to stalk off again, offended by his decision to leave instead of giving it attention.

Hopping into his white car, Tinsley turned the keys and drove through the small town a little, looking for some food. The town was cute, to put it at the least. The business district was filled with old and new, the houses right outside the ‘city area’ were lively, and he still had more to see. But he wasn’t in the mood to just drive around, he had things to do tonight. Tinsley pulled into a drive-in, it seemed to be the closest thing he was going to get for fast food. He got a cheeseburger and fries, with ketchup on the side.

He saw a cute soda shop on the way back to his apartment, he pulled to a stop at a red light and observed the neon sign, taking a mental note to check it out sometime.

He unlocked the door to his apartment a few minutes of driving later, only to hear a loud meow. Plopping down the food he had gotten on the counter somehow summoned the cat over. Tinsley picked off a few chunks of the patty for his new feline friend. He was pretty sure cats could eat ground beef, right?

“Ya like that? I haven’t tried it yet but it smells pretty good. Why don’t you have some first.”

The cat batted at the pieces of meat then sniffed and licked its paw, deciding if it was even worth eating. The verdict was apparently a yes because the cat polished off the chunks quickly after. Tinsley ate his dinner in mostly peace when the cat wasn’t asking for another bite.

The cat watched as Tinsley threw away his trash and put his water glass in the sink. Then he grabbed the files that he threw on his counter earlier.

Tinsley sat at his small table and turned towards the cat. 

“You any good at solving mysteries, buddy? Or do you want to just sulk there and watch me.”

The cat just sat there. He would definitely have to win that one over for sure. It was cute, and very friendly when it wanted to be.

Tinsley opened the five files and grabbed a red pen from his shirt pocket. First, he tried to look for similarities or people that they all knew. That was a bust. A couple were businessmen, one was a politician, a high school principal, and one rich dude. They all had different jobs, different appearances, and different lifestyles going by their salaries.

This was going to be a pain in the ass. Thanks Holly.

Tinsley decided that when he started tomorrow, the next place to start would be to ask the coroner some questions, then look at the schedules of the dead dudes, then do some questioning that the previous detective had somehow neglected to do on his own.

He then looked at some of the murdery details, and yikes. This dude was a real piece of work, whoever he was. All of them died by knife, no evidence of the killer or weapon ever on the scene. They are all connected by Polaroid photographs found in the pockets of the victims. There were pictures of the beginning of a sunset on the front, but a golden hand-sketched hourglass on the back. The press put two and two together, and thus the Golden Hour killer was slapped on every front page, according to the clippings in each file.

Into the office he went, plopping the files down on his desk this time. The cat did not follow, unsurprisingly.

It was time to break out the thumbtacks and corkboard again. Tinsley started working on his evidence board with the five victims and some of the articles. He would have to swing by the evidence crew for some other things too.

C.C. Tinsley was on the case now, Golden Hour killer, and he was not going to stop until he found the person behind the Polaroid.

Considering the surprising lack of evidence though, he decided to take a rest for the rest of the night and be able to get up early the next morning.

-

Click. This one was going to be pretty. The sunset was just beginning this time, turning the sky golden, orange, and there was even still blue in the sky. The ocean boosted the appearance too, glassy waves reflecting the vibrant colors.

He turned back around, shaking the photograph as he looked towards a woman lying on the ground. She gladly hadn’t tried to make an escape, that always makes things messier. It can ruin the floors too.

“What do you think? Quite the lovely view isn’t it.”

The woman coughed up some more blood onto her pink blouse and blonde hair as she growled, “Go to hell, bastard.”

“Black eye not letting you see the view well? Apologies for that one, it is a lovely sunset.”

“Go. To. Hell,” she spat on his not surprisingly nice shoes, causing him to roll his eyes and wipe it off with a piece of her skirt. 

“Oh, I’ll be seeing you there, in due time Miss Orion. I know of my crimes fully, but do you, Miss Orion. Do you remember what you have done? Any deathbed confessions, shit ya gotta get off your chest?”

The room grew dead silent as Miss Orion was stepped away from again, the man this time stepping towards a small table in the room. There’s an inkpot and quill there. He scribbled down a quick design and sighed. 

“No? Will we have to get you to let the cat out of the bag?”

The woman stared into the concrete wall in front of her, anywhere but the man now walking back in her direction. Her face was resolute and arrogant still, no matter what pain she had been put through so far.

There was a loud sigh from her side, “Oh well, more fun for me I suppose.”

He flicked his blade open and plunged it downwards.

-

Tinsley awoke very early the next morning to the ringing of a telephone. He stumbled out of bed quickly and jogged to his kitchen barefoot. His alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, damnit.

“C.C. Tinsley speaking.”

“Detective Tinsley, this is Christine from the city police department. We have found another body related to your case at the docks, please report to the crime scene as soon as possible,” a friendly voice said over the telephone.

It was too early for this. He put some coffee on while he ran to go get dressed, pulling on a white shirt, black tie and pants, and a brown fedora. He then brushed his teeth, speedily put on some shoes, and left his apartment without his coffee. 

Tinsley was there within ten minutes, but Holly still impatiently huffed as he hopped out of his car to cross into the ‘crime scene’. 

“You’re late,” she smirked, handing him a new badge and key to ‘his’ office.

“Sheesh, Holly I just woke up and I haven’t had my coffee. It’s not like this body is getting any deader. Can you give me the low down and any evidence people have found?”

“Victim’s name was Patrica Orion. She was a real estate investor, but she was not fit for that line of work if you ask me. Stingy, rude, old, and crazy. Outrageous prices and contracts for some of her joints too. No fingerprints or DNA but the victims, victim died by knife at around 8 or 9 last night. The victim was moved here after death however, which makes this the first victim to be moved post mortem. The Polaroid found with the victim has been moved to evidence, and the autopsy for the body is scheduled for noon today.”

“Who called the body in?”

“Some random passerby that was going on a morning fishing trip. Officer Doug spoke to him already, he’s clean. Wife saw him leave for the dock at 7, he arrived and saw the body at 7:30. He’s over with his buddies fishing right now.” 

Holly sighed before walking back to her car, Tinsley deciding to follow her and say goodbye.

“You got work to do Tinsley, that’s for sure. So get to it, Holmes. I would start at the evidence locker.”

Tinsley decided to stay and talk to the other officers on the scene. One of them, officer McKinsley, had been to every one of the golden hour crime scenes.

“The person’s sick, that’s all I really know about this. They’re neat about it too, never a single mistake or piece of evidence that isn’t the body or the Polaroid. You’ve got a doozy on your hands, that’s for sure, detective. I do not envy you in the slightest,” the younger officer says in semi-disbelief.

Tinsley began, “This is quite the case, but whatever happened to your other detective?”

“He skipped town when the killings started. His image was already pretty tarnished, I suppose he didn’t want to dig his hole any deeper once the one politician dude got killed.”

“Did he just leave his office?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’re welcome to anything in it. Good luck.”

Tinsley walked back to his car and started to drive away. He sighed heavily at the first red light. I just come back, and this is the shit y’all put me through. No wonder I left in the first place. 

He decided to head down to the evidence locker for the polaroids and crime scene photos, then stop by his apartment, then go back and watch the autopsy. He hoped to talk to some officers and later the person on autopsy duty for this case. 

Pulling into the parking lot, he fanned himself with the remaining cool air before jumping out of the car and walking through the glass doors.

“Hello! How may I direct you today,” a friendly red-haired woman asked.

Tinsley flashed his new badge, “Where are the evidence locker and the detective’s office,” he said in a flat monotone.

“Both are down the hall to your left, they both have labels.”

Tinsley walked to the left and walked past a few doors before reaching the evidence locker. The door was locked, great. He decided to check the ex-detective’s office for a key.

He turned the door to the office, which still had a key in it, and decided to take a quick look around. It was actually pretty plain, all things considered. There was some half drank liquor in one of his drawers, nothing on the new case, just old files and photos. The decorative lamp was nice. He only had blue pens though, and pencils. Disgusting. Overall, nothing worthy of taking back to his office back home. 

He grabbed the key ring on the way out and made his way over to the evidence locker. Is it the silver one? Nope. The other silver one? Nope. The gold one? Click. Yes, first try. He was glad to not go through the other five or so keys on the ring.

A young adult, maybe mid 20’s asked him, “Badge?”

Tinsley handed his badge over and walked off to the boxes from 4 weeks ago. There was the first one, in mid July. Then there were the ones from three weeks ago, the one two weeks ago, one week ago, and today. He slipped all of the files into one box and checked out the items. His badge was also thrown in the box with a hasty goodbye from both parties.

Tinsley plopped the box down in his passenger seat and sped away from the parking lot, noticing the time was nearly noon, and that wasn’t a very long time to go back home, read a bunch of information about autopsies and possible scenarios, slap the worthy theories and notes up on the board, and speed back for today’s autopsy. 

Shit. I left the coffee on. Please forgive me, oh mighty beans, Tinsley thought as he pulled into his apartment’s parking lot. He grabbed the box and hurried into his apartment for some cold coffee and maximum time usage.

-

“Are you done with your meeting?”

“For the last time, Fran. If the door is open, I am not in a meeting or I am currently moving a body. What do you need now,” Ricky sighed tiredly. Francesca Norris, his friend since he was a teenager. She was brilliant and an amazing, well, whatever she did as a career. But either to annoy Ricky or for the sake of forgetfulness, she loved to forget some simple rules or Ricky’s schedule.

“Sheesh, what’s got your knickers in a twist,” she calmly said. 

Ricky honestly never knew where Fran was from. Until a few years ago, he didn’t even know her actual name. She’d switch her name and story and accent so many times it all just became a blur. She’d settle on a posh English or plain accent most days, thank goodness. But sometimes, when she was feeling extra bratty or didn’t want to talk to anybody, she went for one of the 4 other languages she spoke or a thick accent from some European country.

“I was working last night, Fran. And I didn’t have any time to get ready or sleep until I had meetings with clients today.”

Fran laughed and fake pouted, “Awww, did baby not get any of his coffee? Is he tired?”

“Today is a wine day and you know it. I can deal with the no sleep, it’s just the CLIENTS today, Fran,” Ricky exhaled very loudly, rising in volume as he ranted.

“Ooh, anybody interesting come in? You have to go on a business trip? What the hell could they have possibly said to put you in such a bad mood when you’ve only talked to 3 of 5.”

Fran walked over to a comfy seat and plopped herself down. This was going to be a good story, or an even better rant. She adjusted her legs and swung them over the armrest on one side.

“Okay, the first one wasn’t so bad. She could tell I was tired, and she was actually pretty respectful. She just wanted me to rough up some dudes that were getting in her way, so I was like, ‘okay.’ She showed me the drive, not bad, like 20 mins away. She showed me the pay, amazing, right on the price with a hefty tip. I’m going over there tomorrow, because she was actually really nice about the whole thing. Hope she figures it out.”

“Okay, continue,” Fran said looking at her teeth in her handheld mirror.

Ricky then took a deep breath before continuing, “Then I did my hair and actually fixed myself up for the next client because we have to be professionals, right?”

“Right. You look great.”

“Thank you. The second guy was a total douche. First off, he was a total cheapskate and tried to negotiate my price. Second of all, he wanted me to off a COP, Fran. A POLICE OFFICER. THEN he was a total creep towards me and I literally felt like breaking the stem of a wine glass and stabbing him with it. But we refrained, declined, and moved on. The third guy was the same as the First Lady but he was like, unsure he wanted to hire me by the very end of the meeting?? Because of my HEIGHT? Like, bitch, I’ll take down all 6’4 of your ass right now, and beat it all the way to my height. So he wants a demo before he hires me, and fine. So I beat one of his beefcake lil assistants, and bam, hired without going a second into my calling hours. The one call I got today was the second dude, thinking that this line would take him to my ‘manager’. So he just started talking about how horrible my customer service is and bam, I’ve found my next target so he better watch his back. Now it’s lunch and you’re here. So I hope you have good news for me, Fran. You are keeping me from the Mayor’s leftover lasagna.”

“You have said you charge extra for cops and public figures, right,” Fran asked, having put down the mirror and now staring at Ricky’s animated face and hands. It was always fun to watch him tell stories or yell. Both was just a treat.

“Obviously? Now get to the point, Fran,” Ricky put his hand on his forehead.

“Oh, well I was just here to tell you that there’s a new detective in town. One of Horsley’s new pets, too. Just wanted to warn ya,” Fran said calmly, trying not to pour water on an oil fire.

“Okay good. I’ll have work to do this week, what's the name?”

The mayor popped his head in the door, stepping in with a tray. 

Ricky sighed, “See Fran, he knows how to follow the rules.”

“Well SO-rry that I make your life so ROUGH,” Francesca pouted dramatically.

“Aww no, you’re going to make me cry all over my new pants, or my lunch,” Ricky deadpanned sarcastically.

“Speaking of lunch, what’s on the menu, Mayor my man?”

“Mr. Goldsworth only wanted leftovers for lunch, so I warmed him some leftovers, Miss Norris.”

“Thank you, Mayor. I’ll eat it in my office today. I do have a meeting in,” he checked his watch, “20 minutes?”

The mayor placed a tray on Ricky’s desk and walked right back out of the room. Ricky started politely eating his lunch, as he still had company and he did not want to ruin his pants.

“Well? The new detective? Get on with it, I can’t really talk to you today except for my lunch break, also known as right now. I want to know about what you’ve been doing too.”

“The new detective’s name is Tinsley, I really don’t know about him, he’s your problem. But me? I’m still seeing Banjo, and Night Night and Legs have been keeping me busy with jobs,” Francesca said happily.

Ricky chewed his bite of lasagna before continuing, “Banjo? Really Fran? Fine fine, it’s your life I suppose. How’s life as a master of disguise?”

“Like I said, Night Night and Legs are keeping me busy. I’ve been spying on one of their opponents and I scope out places for them too. And don’t talk about Banjo that way. He’s sweet, considerate, kind, and good at his job. He also lets me use a whole room for my disguises, AND I still have an office to meet with people in. He just doesn’t get any office space, since we still are in a smaller house. You’re just jealous that I have a boyfriend.”

“Please Fran, you know that I could have literally any guy in this city, or really the state. I’ll have a boyfriend when I want one.”

“Commitment issues,” Francesca singsonged in return. 

There was a muffled yell of ‘that’s what I told him’ from the hall, then immediate silence.

“I’m going to have to talk to my staff about listening in on my conversations,” Ricky rose in volume at the end before stating, “I have work to do Fran, I have no time for heartbreak when I have a mansion and people to kill.”

“Yeah okay okay, I’ll leave you alone now, you heartbreaker.”

Fran left the room with a little wave and Ricky ate the rest of his lasagna in silence. 

“Looks like I have some research to do,” he said before there was another knock at his door.

“Come in, the door’s unlocked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, coming at you with a very late weekly update. Sorry about that. This work is planned to have an ending, and I am doing the whole weekly update thing, I just do not know how many chapters this is gonna be yet, apologies.


	3. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another weekly update, enjoy my dudes

Holly opened the door to her house and took in the smell of ink and lemons, not the best combo. Sighing, she plopped her bag down in the entryway and walked into the living room to flop down on the couch.

“Holly honey? Are you okay?”

A concerned voice questioned from the kitchen. Holly raised her head and proclaimed; “Yeah I’m fine darlin, I haven’t had my tea yet though. How are you?”

“Busy as usual. I have a late shift at the hospital, because I’m spending the day packaging, addressing, and delivering these invitations,” Claire shouted back from the kitchen.

Holly slowly sat up and walked up to the kitchen, stopping by their refrigerator for a drink. She then decided to plop down on one of their barstools, seeing that the kitchen table was covered in envelopes and papers. She popped open a bottle of Coke and drank deeply, enjoying the fizz.

“I thought you said you wanted tea this morning?”

“Claire, there’s no time, our kitchen is in a bit of disarray right now, and I want to help you once I get a little bit of caffeine into my system, okay,” Holly said sweetly.

“Oh no, you really don’t have to help me if you don’t want to,” Claire shyly murmured.

“No, I do. I need a break from work and you need energy to be a nurse tonight. May I see the invites you’ve come up with?”

Claire offered Holly a paper, “Hm, very nice design sweetheart. Where did you order them from?”

“I don’t know. I’m in charge of planning the actual thing, not really my department. But I could ask the receptionist where we got them,” Claire took the paper from Holly's hands and gently put it in an envelope.

“Can I help you deliver so you can get some rest before your shift?”

“Not all of them, no, I know this case has been bothering you for a little while too. Your work is just as important as mine. By the way, how’s the case going? Any new information or leads yet? What about that new boy, Tin-something?”

“Head nurse versus shitty investigative journalist, I think we have a clear winner there,” Holly chuckled, “But the case isn’t doing so hot, even with the new guy. No new evidence or mistakes from the killer, the crime scene was basically the same as the others with a new victim and picture, nothing special. I’m sure he’ll figure something out, it is his first week on the case after all.”

“I forgot he was new in town. I’ll save an invite for him.”

“Yeah, is this pile ready to ship out?”

There was a small nod from Claire and Holly chugged the rest of whatever was left in the bottle. She picked up the stack of invites and grabbed her car keys.

“See you in a few, if I don't have to stop by the precinct.”

-

Two o’clock came sooner than Tinsley would have liked. He had gotten home at around half past 12 that afternoon, and he continued his board with some of the photographs and more notes about each victim in particular. He had some family members to talk to, and some co-workers. None of it made sense, really. He would have to dig really deep for this one, go into each individual’s past, probably. So far, there was only a connection between two of the victims, the principal and one of the businessmen had worked on a project for the school. There was a possible connection between the real estate agent too, he’d check that on the way home.

He grabbed his keys and walked out to the street. There was a distinct smell of cigarettes wafting from down the street. Tinsley pulled onto the street and made his way down to his new place of work.

He made his way down to their small morgue, the air getting a little colder as he made his way through the door labeled CELINE BLACK; M.E.. The room was almost like a fridge, but he supposed that was a good thing. Better cold than the smell of rotting flesh.

“Detective. I am Celine Black, I’m the one who performs the autopsies here. I don't know why you would want to be here, but here we are. Shouldn’t take too long for a quick exam, but you’ll have to wait for the full report,” a friendly voice said.

“Hello, I’m Detective Tinsley, and yep I’m here for the autopsy,” Tinsley said flatly, extending his hand.

“Woah, gotta stay sanitary. Actually, could you put some gloves on too, sir,” Celine responded cheerily.

It was odd that someone with such a morbid job could be so cheery about it, but hey, who was he to judge. He slipped some rubber gloves on after rolling up his sleeves. Cecil was fidgeting with some papers and a pen, then putting them on the edge of a table filled with sterile tools.

“Let’s begin,” she said, pulling the white cloth off of the body partially.

Tinsley didn’t pay real attention to what the examination was about, thinking about possible motives or connection to the other killings. Everything super important would come out in the report, but hearing information such as where, when, and how’s were nice. Like, twenty eight stab wounds seems like a crime of passion. Until you note that only ten of them were in fatal areas. The other eighteen weren’t meant to kill, more harm the victim before death.

About thirty minutes later Tinsley heard the removal of rubber gloves and the clicking of a pen.

“Well detective, seems like we have a preferred method of death here, on the killer’s part. He dabbled a little bit in everywhere the first two victims, but now the fatal wounds are always where the heart is. This was a crime of passion, based off the multiple stab wounds in a very erratic pattern. Yet it was calculated and planned, based on the way that the victim suffered before the fatal stabs were delivered.”

“Okay, were any of the others like this? In any way? Can I get some more info on the killings, please?”

“As I said, the first two were dabbles, but it seems that they got their act together, and now they have some rules as to how this process goes. Torture, kill, dump the body or leave it in whatever abandoned building. I have no idea what the torture’s about, for some of these folks. Most of them are good, strong, people. Pillars of their neighborhoods or businesses. Model citizens. Then there’s Jim and Patricia. You could tell those folks were hiding something.”

Tinsley nodded, scribbling information into his notebook. He tried to meet the smaller woman’s shockingly blue eyes when he said thank you. Key word, tried. Sometimes his height is definitely a disadvantage when it comes to things. Doorways, for example. He pulled off his gloves and started to walk towards the door.

“It’s no problem, detective. I’ll let you know when the full report is out, but my grand baby awaits, so I’m headed to the hospital the second the paperwork is filled out.”

“Congratulations, enjoy your afternoon, I’ve got work to do as well,” Tinsley walked out of the room flipping through his notebook. That was amazing information. Now he’d have to look into these ‘model citizens’, to see if they really were who they said they were.

He sped back to his apartment, glad that nobody seemed to care, or give him a speeding ticket. He almost forgot to stop at the last red light. He parked as neatly as he could in his hurry. Opening the door in a hurry, running to put these new leads on his board, he nearly trampled his new friend.

“Sorry buddy, what’s up? I’ve got a lot of work to do, but I can get you something to eat and drink real quick,” Tinsley hurriedly explained while the cat indignantly batted its paws at Tinsley’s leg.

Tinsley grabbed a small bowl and some canned tuna, eating some himself. He grabbed a second bowl with water and plopped both bowls down on the kitchen floor.

“I think I’ll call you buddy. How does that sound, buddy?”

The cat continued eating while Tinsley gave it a little ear scratch. Tinsley walked off towards his office, starting a little shopping list on a new page. He’d been grocery shopping earlier that day, just a quick stop when he was going back home for a couple hours.

Now he needed supplies for Buddy, too. He supposed it would be nice to have a friend in this place, once Buddy had an appointment at a Veterinarian's office. But for now a can of tuna and a closed window was enough.

He started tacking more of his notes to the board, and by now it was pretty medium sized. No suspects though, which was a major downside. Someone would turn up though, hopefully. The information about the two suspects, that they were hiding something. The question is, what were they hiding? And why did they die because of that thing?

There was certainly a start, Tinsley thought as he took down some names and numbers, walking off to the kitchen to make some calls. Buddy had finished his tuna and was now laying in a sunny spot by the couch. Tinsley was glad he got an apartment with multiple windows. The cat looked perfectly content for a minute or so before there was a loud knock at the door.

Tinsley made sure he had some form of weapon on him, and went to go open the door.

It was Holly. Holly with a stack of papers in her hand, and more in a bag.

“Hi Holly, what brings you around these parts with an entire printer store?”

“I have been delivering invites since noon. That means I’ve been making trips to mailboxes for nearly four hours, so just take this,” she shoved an envelope into his hands, “and shut up.”

“How many do you have left? How many do you think you’ve delivered?”

“I’ve delivered around 100 of the 250 invites, all of which have a plus one. I have 50 left, since Claire could only do 100,” Holly explained, stepping into Tinsley’s apartment.

“Where are your glasses? I’m so thirsty and hell no am I paying for a soda until I have to deliver Mr. M’s invite. I do not want to deal with this heat wave this summer like everyone else.”

“You could get ice cream? And who’s Claire,” Tinsley asked Holly, grabbing a glass from one of his cupboards.

“She’s my housemate, and the Head Nurse at the hospital. So she’s kind of in charge of this charity thing every year, and this year it’s gonna be an auction. You should come. It would be a good opportunity for you to meet some of the other people in town, or ask some questions. How’s the case been panning out so far today?”

“It’s been okay, I’ve got some leads about the victims to follow up on. It might reveal the killer, but that’s doubtful. I’m going to need to ask a ton of questions around town. You were right, this is a doozy,” Tinsley smiled.

It was nice to be invited to things, and even better to be invited by Holly and her very kind housemate.

“I’m excited to meet Claire, she sounds like quite the party planner. But I may leave early depending on what day it is and what’s going on in the case.”

“Read the invite dumbass. I’m going to finish my deliveries,” Holly sighed as she drank the rest of her glass and walked out the door.

Tinsley walked back into his office and pinned the invite on the corner of the board, it read;

Mister or Missus,

You have been invited to this year’s charity auction for the Towne Hospital. Dinner is to be served at 6, and the auction will start at 8pm. Dress code is formal, and please don’t be late.

He supposed it sounded fun, so he should go. It wasn’t the worst thing on the planet, there was a two hour dinner, and he’d probably be sat next to Holly anyways, so no huge socializing required. Now it was time to make some calls.

-

Holly jumped back into her car after delivering Tinsley’s invite. She hopes he will come, the man was a social wreck. Talking to some new folks will do him good.

She begins to drive to the other half of town, she has some neighborhoods to deliver to. That should take up about 40 of them. Then there are the bigger houses, and shit. She has to deliver an invite to the Goldsworth house. She should have told Claire to do the wealthy folks, dammit. Now she was definitely going to save Mr. M’s invite for last. The man basically lived at the shop, his house was right above it after all.

She did most of the neighborhoods, dropping invites off in mailboxes to make life easier for herself. Walk down one half of the street, walk back up the other. Make it to the car. She had about eleven invites left.

Maybe I should just skip his house, Holly thought. I could just ask Claire to do his house when she’s rested enough. No, he’ll hear about it from his neighbors and come after Claire for his invitation. Does the guy have a mailbox? Let’s go with that plan.

Richard Goldsworth was like the town idol. Model citizen, always punctual, and rich. He was still single though, which was odd to everyone in town. Someone like him could get any girl in town, and boy does that make itself evident at parties. Mister Goldsworth will you dance with me? Oops, I’m so clumsy to have run into you, sorry. I see the seat next to you is empty, may I sit here? It frankly got a little annoying, and even Claire fell victim to the man once. Gladly she was gayer than Holly, so that worked out well.

She knew the truth though, just not every part of it. The Goldsworth household held a dark secret. Something about the family always smelled fishy to Holly. The way they held their fortune, or the way the hallways had closed doors that would be open the next day. There was always an excuse though, and the town fell for it, hook line and sinker.

She supposed it was also the way he held himself that was eerie sometimes. She had never seen his facade drop in front of the town, but he had a group of people around him sometimes, where his eyes would drop in a conversation, to a dangerous sort of flare.

His mask was good, she’d give him that. Time to deliver some invitations.

Mostly butlers took the mail away from her, with the occasional thank you or kid at the door. That left her to a nice five minute drive to the Goldsworths property. It was really quite a nice place when you pulled up to it, an iron fence around the property, green grounds, and a stunning house.

Lucy, Richard’s mother, could never shut up about the house. It was influenced by Neoclassical Spanish architecture, and infused with some classic Victorian era touches. Or whatever. She was never really a ‘house person’. She bought a house with Claire, and let Claire have full reign over decor and the like. The only area Holly was in charge of was the garage and ‘her’ bedroom.

Holly got out of the car, her shoes crunching on the gravel driveway. She hopped up the stairs to their front door and hesitated to knock. If she tried to knock and then run, the car was too far away and then she would have to drive. If she left it at the door, it might blow away. Sighing loudly she put on her best neutral face and knocked on the door.

The Mayor opened the door, to Holly’s relief, and invited her into the cool foyer. The house was just as beautiful on the inside, with marble and deep red accents. The large windows made everything pristine, it really was like a scene from a novel. But the air conditioning was the only thing that Holly cared about at the moment.

“Miss Horsley, what a lovely surprise. What is your business here today?”

“I’m just here to deliver something for the family,” she said, extending an envelope, “Richard doesn’t even need to know I was here.”

“Ah, I see. Master Goldsworth is in his office for the day, as he is very busy,” The Mayor said, grabbing the envelope and placing it on a dark wooden table, next to a few other envelopes.

Holly let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and said, “Thank you, I’ll be on my way now. Have a lovely day.”

“And you, Miss Horsley.”

-

The Mayor decided to start dinner while Ricky was still in his last meeting of the day. He heard glass shatter and a yelp come from upstairs. Ignoring that, he started flipping through a recipie book. He’d made lasagna the night before, so no red sauces.

Chicken Salad sounded like a wonderful cold option for the heat wave, so he grabbed his car keys and walked to the garage, using his car. He’d been in the family for a while, so they let him use his own car. It was quite nice compared to what the mayor had before, and it was a wonderful bonus to the job.

The store was just like any other, so he picked up some chicken and ingredients for future dinners. He also picked up some cinnamon, noting that they were out a few days ago when Ricky had made cinnamon rolls.

He decided to pick up a little dessert for Ricky, as he’d overheard about the meetings today when Francesca was over. And by the sound of how his current meeting was going, he’d need a little pick me up today.

He got home and started out with the chicken, frying it in some spices and oil. That was the first two steps done. He then prepped some vegetables and made it look nice on a plate. Then he cut up some fresh strawberries from the garden and took the tray over to the smaller dining room that connected to the kitchen. They did have their larger one that the family used for company, but Ricky never did like using that one. Something about the way it’s ‘too distant’.

He walked up the stairs to the only other person in the house. He was in his office, as expected. There was a bleeding dead body on the hardwood, and Ricky was running his hands through his thick, ebony hair. The waves bounced back with a flop of his arms back to his side.

“Sir, dinner is ready.”

“Thank you Mayor. I’ll take care of that real quick then be right out. Promise.”

“Yes sir.”

-

Ricky quickly took care of the body, years of practice he supposed. After that was done, he mopped up the dark oak flooring, and made his way down the stairs for dinner. He dropped the body by the back door.

Since he was close to the wine cellar stairs, he stepped down and grabbed a bottle. A new, non expensive red would do for tonight. He grabbed the nearest cheap wine he found and hopped upstairs to the kitchen.

The Mayor was sitting at the table, waiting in his spot. Ricky popped the cork off of the wine and took a swig from the bottle, sitting down.

“Sir, I got you some chocolate ice cream at the store today, and some peppermint sticks for the jar.”

“Thank you, I’ll enjoy it tonight after I take care of the body,” Ricky sighed, “This chicken salad looks really good though! I bet it’ll taste even better.”

They ate and talked about Ricky’s day and what would be on his plate for the next week or so. The Mayor brought up some maintenance things and talked about how great the garden was looking.

“Thank you, I find that caring for plants is quite relaxing, especially knowing what lies six feet under,” Ricky chuckled.

The Mayor laughed, he didn’t mind any of the Goldsworths jobs. It put food on the table and money in his pocket. He was always quiet too, so the whole secret thing didn’t matter. He had also grown to care for the family, keeping them in check like a father or grandfather of sorts.

Ricky loved the Mayor like the father he never had, even though he technically did have a father in his life. Ricky didn’t seem sad when his father passed a few years ago, and the Mayor really couldn’t blame him. Ricky knew exactly the type of man his father was, and that was the exact opposite of a supportive or loving parent.

Ricky was just the heir to the estate, and so there was no real connection between the two. Ricky bonded with the Mayor over gardening, and now he and Ricky took absolutely amazing care of the garden, producing the best plants in town, and the most stunning and vibrant flowers year round. They also grew fresh vegetables and herbs both inside and outside.

The groundskeeper took care of the rest of the extensive grounds, keeping the lawn green and the like.

Ricky left the dishes to the Mayor, not offering help like he usually did. He needed to bury the body by the backdoor before anyone noticed, and prune some of his rosebushes.

He slipped into a pair of jeans, leaving his semi blood splattered shirt on, it was dirty anyways.

Dragging the body and some gardening tools out to the garden, he grumbled to the flowers, “Got some new fertilizer for you babies. This dummy decided to question my authority over my job and insult me and my family. So NOW he gets to make the world more beautiful instead.”

He dug the hole and kicked the man in with a huff. He cut off the plastic he was in and took it out of the hole. Around five minutes later he was taking care of the flowers as if nothing had happened. And as far as the world was aware, nothing did.

At around eight, he took a long hot shower and slipped into his comfortable pajamas. He thought some ice cream and wine sounded great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this please feel free to drop a kudos or a comment, we enjoy feedback here.


	4. The Charity Auction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner is here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this one’s kinda late, ya boi had some things to deal with this week, but anyhow, enjoy!

Two weeks. Two weeks without a single killing. It was almost like a dream, or a nightmare if you were on the case looking for evidence. Tinsley supposed it was a mercy for him to not have any press action by this point.

He would continue interviewing ‘suspects’ that had nothing to do with the case whatsoever, getting meaningless responses from family and friends of the deceased. He felt like he was on the edge of finding something, though. He just didn’t know what. It was rather infuriating to have it just at the tips of his fingers, always just out of reach. A mistake would be great, or an obvious connection.

The charity dinner was tonight though, so he’d have to put work off for a little while, maybe enough time to hit a bar before the event. Probably. Hopefully. Ya know what, I’ll take the rest of the day off, Tinsley thought. He’d done no work that day anyhow, really just going through old files and statements. Nobody had gotten to him about the ink either, Tinsley had thought that it would be helpful to know who’s been buying the ink in the first place. It was not sold at any local store he knew, at least. No metallic gold ink to be found in town.

He checked his office clock and it was four o’clock. That was at least enough time to stop somewhere. His whiskey stock was running low already, he should buy more. He checked the invitation and took the thumbtack out of it. 

Thud. Tap tap. Tinsley sighed and walked towards the door, and opened it. His pant leg was hit by a small white paw.

“Buddy, are you already hungry? I’ve fed you breakfast and a snack so far today,” Tinsley said tiredly.

The cat continued to softly meow as Tinsley walked over to his bedroom. A change of clothing was required for the dinner, and apparently, he needed to either let the cat out for a little while or feed it something before he left. 

Buddy had become his official cat around a week ago when he had his vet appointment and adoption papers had been signed. Tinsley still had yet to get him a name tag, if Buddy would ever even let him put it on. He seemed to still be a free spirit, but he stuck with Tinsley. Tinsley supposed it was something about him, maybe the food, maybe the house, he didn’t really know. He was glad to have Buddy around though, that was for certain.

Sometimes a sleepy cat on your lap is wonderful stress relief when you haven’t found any good evidence in a week or two. Nothing tangible, at least. There was still that feeling coursing through his veins as he investigated.

Maybe he’d catch a lead at dinner, he thought as he hopped in the shower, the suds washing over his body. He was very meticulous as to not get any water in his hair because he didn’t want it to be wet when he was at the party. That was difficult, he might invest in some of those hairpins that ladies wore to keep their hair in place.

He didn’t want to wear a coat or anything, as it’s mid-August, so he settled for some suspenders and a black tie. He tried to do his hair, but gave up about two minutes in, realizing that it wasn’t gonna happen today. He knew it would probably never happen, subconsciously. He didn’t care anyway. Not like anyone too important to him would be there.

Finally deciding to do something about the cat, he opened his door to an angry meowing coming from the other side. He looked at his cat and walked towards the kitchen, pulling out a can of food. The meowing ceased as the cat’s vision zeroed in on the food. He placed the food on the counter and then pulled out a piece of one of his old belts out. Much more durable than string, in his opinion. 

Five minutes later, he dumped some food in the cat’s bowl and left his house. The hospital had a bar on the way, thank god. He had less than an hour to spend there, but Tinsley supposed that was good, seeing how he wanted to be there early and not tipsy. He pulled out a flask on his way through the doors. An older woman with grey peppered through her black hair looked up from behind the bar.

“Do you guys refill these,” Tinsley asked once he was up to the bar.

“It’ll cost you extra, but sure,” the woman had an accent to her voice, something foreign for sure.

He held out the flask as he said, “Whiskey of any variety or rum if you don’t have any, please.”

An olive hand grabbed his flask and filled it up with relative ease, she’d been working this job for a while, if she wasn’t the owner. 

“That’ll be twenty dollars, sir,” Tinsley handed her some bills, “And I hope to see you in here again. You have a story behind those brown eyes of yours, and I want to hear it sometime.”

Tinsley thanked her and walked out back to his car. He’d missed his car on the drive down, as he’d had someone take it down with his furniture and belongings. It was silver, and a little old, but there was nothing Tinsley didn’t love about it. He tucked the flask into one of his pockets, and they were big enough for it to be hidden, no surprise there.

The parking lot was still very empty when he pulled in. He supposed that the other cars were the staff and Holly with Claire. The building looked very lovely, he supposed it would be as the Hospital’s event center.

The decorations were very simple but elegant, with pink roses and green leaves accenting every table. The napkins matched the bouquets in color, and the deep oak flooring was shined to perfection. There was a peace that radiated from the cream walls and tablecloths, unlike the harsh white of most hospital rooms.

There was a makeshift stage in the room as well, with items for auction on display. There was a small podium with a microphone on it too. It made him feel underdressed, as he stood in the doorway absorbing it all.

“Hey sport, I see you made it. Nice to see you here, and so early too,” an unexpected voice said from across the room.

It was Holly, in a very nice white blouse and navy blue suit pants. He had dressed appropriately, he supposed. He’d have to look at the other guest's attire.

“Hi Holly, I decided to come early to make sure that everything was cool and I don’t have to talk to a ton of people,” Tinsley admitted.

“Well I could certainly use a little bit of help with the remaining pieces out for auction, and oh my God what is up with your hair?”

“It doesn’t like to be styled.”

Holly rolled her eyes and said with a smile, “Come on, I still need some help with those thingys, so let's get a move on bedhead.”

-

Those patterns clash, those colors don’t work, there was always a level of mental capacity involved in maintaining the ‘Goldsworth style’. Ricky liked to maintain a perfect image and a fashionable one at that. It was never too hard for Ricky though, always a risk-taker with a closet in almost every acceptable shade. His mother was a big help when he was younger, but now he was his own level of stylish, up there with his mom finally.

For tonight though, he decided to let someone else have the spotlight, choosing grey slacks and vest, with a green tie. The tie had leaves embroidered onto it, but with a pattern tight enough to make it look almost part of the fabric. No unnecessary textures. Gold cuff links and a tie pin would do for the night. Nothing really flashy, he reminded himself.

The last thing he had to do was to put some product in his hair and get some shoes on.

His styling mix was something of a cocktail. He put a small bit of gel in it for the shine in his curls, but then sprayed a bit of hairspray into it for structure. In the end, he had a lovely mix of straight and curly.

Shiny brown shoes, and a simple watch, and he was good to go. He quickly snuck to the kitchen and picked up a bouquet of his own light pink roses, with a little something for Fran too. The mayor was waiting for him in front of the Manor, with the car.

Ricky did enjoy driving, but he liked to give the Mayor something to do with him, and it was harder for him to talk to Fran and the like when he was focusing on the road and traffic patterns.

Thinking of Fran, there she was. With Banjo. Great. Banjo was actually a very kind person and good at what he did too, but there were still two things Ricky did not really like about Banjo. He was chatty around others, but he seemed to fear Ricky. And the second thing was the way he dressed. 

Fran had obviously dressed him up tonight and probably did his hair. They looked like a lovely couple, and Ricky knew that they were one. A perfect match, if you will. They sure did have a rough start, but now they both understood each other even in disagreement.

Honestly speaking, Ricky found it impressive. He’d never found a ‘match’, and his parents were not the best example of a ‘perfect couple’. He waved to them from the steps with a dazzling smile, and he slid on his signature summer sunglasses.

They waved back as he got closer to the car, hopping into the front seat, with them in the back.

“Fran, glad you could make it. Banjo, it’s good to see you again!”

“Yeah, I decided to actually bring a plus one. Since you have a whole table, and you offered it up for me,” Francesca explained.

“No, I mean that it’s good to see him, Fran. And just for your information, the seating is arranged. I only got four seats this time, at a table. Something about having more people there mingling,” Ricky explained, handing Francesca a white rose.

“Thank you, Mister Goldsworth. It was very kind of you to allow me to come with Fran,” Banjo timidly chimed in from Francesca’s side.

“Ricky, please. We’ve known each other for a while now, and you already know what happens to you if you break her heart, right?”

“Yes, you’ve made that point very clear, Ricky. Now stop traumatizing my boyfriend, if you would,” Fran stated plainly, plucking the thorns and part of the stem off of the rose.

“You look dazzling this evening, Miss Norris and Mister McClintock,” the Mayor saved the conversation.

“Thank you, Mayor. That’s very kind of you to say,” Banjo said a little more confidently.

Francesca was wearing a black knee-length dress with red lace cap sleeves and collar. She had a simple silver necklace on with red lips. Banjo’s tie was made out of the same patterned red fabric as Francesca’s sleeves, except not lace. The rest of his outfit was black, suspenders, shoes, and pants. His hair was done to the side, basically slicked over with gel.

“Yes we look great, I planned the outfits after all. And the makeup, and the hair. Although Banjo isn’t wearing any makeup,” Francesca chuckled, placing the rose in her hair gently.

“Obviously he is Fran, he’s practically ready to go up on stage and sing,” Ricky rolled his eyes sarcastically while laughing along. 

The three friends continued to catch up until the car came to a stop, dropping them off for their event. 

“Did you invite anybody else to sit in that fourth seat,” Francesca asked curiously.

“No, and sadly I think the journalist is sitting there because we got to be at the same table as Claire, I mean Nurse Miller,” Ricky responded with a half-smile. 

Ricky had only gotten that news a little while ago, from one of the servers that owed him a favor. He couldn’t change the seating, that would be weird, so he’d have to deal with it, sadly

Maybe the new detective would be there too. Obviously not at Ricky’s table. He wouldn’t be that lucky, but possibly near enough for Ricky to spy on. He would probably be roped in by another cop or something so that he would know at least one person at his table by name. He should have asked, that would have been the better favor.

The doorman opened the lobby door to a very simple but well-decorated lobby, with plain blue carpet and couches lining the walls. Ricky led his company into the large room where they were hosting the event.

The room was filled with chatting people, all dressed as nicely as they could afford or a little less. Francesca dragged Banjo off to some of her old friends, to catch up or whatever. Ricky decided to look for the woman of the hour, to get formalities out of the way for the evening.

“Ricky! It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver your invite personally, but I was busy,” a voice exclaimed from a few yards away.

As he was trying to find the source of her voice, Claire crushed him in a bear hug from his left. 

“Claire, the woman of the hour! The center looks absolutely wonderful! Please take these flowers as a small gift from me, for your kindness,” Ricky handed Claire a bouquet of pink roses.

They nearly matched her dress, only a shade or two lighter.

Now that the formalities were out of the way, he could get down to his real business being there. He set about looking for a certain Detective Tinsley.

-

The dinner bell chimed but Tinsley had already taken his seat next to Officer McKinsley. It wasn’t ideal, but there were only eight other people at the table and there would be food and other things to do. People began to shuffle towards their seats, and a woman with ash blonde hair in a pink dress stepped up to the podium.

“Hello everyone, I’m Claire or Head Nurse Miller, and I want to thank all of you for coming to support the hospital today. We like to ensure good care for all individuals in this city. Which is why,” Tinsley started to tune the woman’s voice out. 

There were a couple more speakers, after the infamous Claire, and then dinner was served. Claire Miller, Holly’s roommate. He’d have to officially meet her later. The dinner of the night was spaghetti and meatballs, with Caesar salad. Not too horrible either, like most hospital food was. Tinsley found himself looking for Claire and Holly, and they were about three tables away. They had quite the mix of a crowd around them. There were four people that were obviously a family, two teens, and their parents. Then Holly and Claire, but there was a group of three at the table too. They were very well dressed and very avidly talking amongst themselves. 

Claire would occasionally cut into their conversation, but Holly seemed less than pleased that they were there. She would look away, occasionally looking towards Tinsley and some other people that he supposed that she knew. He offered a small smile sometimes, but her demeanor never faltered. She really did not like the seating.

Then the auction began and Tinsley decided to go into his headspace again, he did not want to buy anything nor did he have the money. He decided to think about the people he’d seen so far that day when he felt a pair of eyes staring directly at him. He looked around the room to find one of the three friends at Holly’s table staring at him, observantly.

He wore grey and green, with a typical white shirt. He couldn’t really tell much else about him. He was tan and had black hair, but that was it. Too far away, and he turned around as soon as he was caught. One of his friends, the one with dark brown hair, was paying very close attention to the bidders. He never placed any money on an item, however.

Tinsley put it off as just being a weird hobby, maybe he liked watching the tension in the room rise as the bidders thinned out the more money was placed on the table. It could be very enthralling to watch, he observed as a child.

Tinsley decided to stay back in his mind space to process and think, and before he knew it dessert was being placed at his cleared place setting. It was a chocolate pudding with cherry sauce on it. It looked delicious.

Claire stepped back up to the microphone, “Thank you everyone for being so kind and charitable with your bidding for the auction. If you would like to make a donation without bidding, there will be boxes on the way out. I’d like to thank the sponsors of this dinner, the Goldsworth, Miller, and Jenkins families.” 

The man who had been staring at him, the small family at Holly’s table, and another old couple a few tables away rose. They were probably the sponsors, and everyone began clapping for them politely before Claire continued her little speech.

“You have been very kind to help us out with the food and decor. Have a lovely evening everyone, and enjoy the dessert!”

Tinsley dug into his pudding, wanting to avoid the traffic of getting out of there. He’d have to check out, donate, and leave. 

He was sad to not savor dessert, but as he left he noticed the man congratulating the bidders, the one who was paying such close attention. He slipped a ten in a metal donation bin and grabbed his keys. It was later into the night, the sun had set and he took a few swigs of his flask, only cringing a little at the burn. 

He was pretty lightweight despite what people think, so he decided to go home before drinking any more. The roads were pretty calm by that time of night, so he got to drive home in peace. He could see Buddy when he got home and sleep. But mostly sleep. 

Buddy’s collar would be done tomorrow, so he could go pick that up, with a leash maybe. The cat was certainly always in the mood to go outside, but Tinsley didn’t want to let him out without supervision. No dead birds or mice in his apartment, that was for damn sure.

He pulled up to his complex, hopping out of the car and making the choice to go up the fire escape today. He hopped through his bedroom window, locking it when he was inside.

Buddy started meowing until he saw that it was Tinsley. Tinsley then quickly got dressed into a T-shirt and comfortable pants. Then Buddy followed him closely to the couch. Tinsley flopped down and Buddy hopped onto his lap, lying down for some scratches.

Tinsley started to slowly drink from his flask, knowing that he would probably regret it. Buddy was getting his scratches too, and pretty soon both of them had passed out on the couch. It was a good night overall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop a kudos or comment to let me know you enjoy or if you find mistakes, I’ll try to fix them.


	5. 10 Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is not a time lapse of ten years but you’ll get it when you get to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is super late because I had to do a lot of drafts (this chapter was really hard for me to write) on top of school. I am ahead now so it’ll be easier to post regularly on Fridays now.

“You have been very kind to help us out with the food and decor. Have a lovely evening everyone, and enjoy the dessert!”

Ricky and the eldest two Jenkins sat down as Claire finished up her speech. Banjo had already politely offered up his pudding to the teen boy at the table, Fran insisting that they just share one. Dinner was pretty filling, after all.

The detective was a few tables over, but almost behind Ricky’s back. Very difficult to spy on, and Ricky did get caught once during the dinner. Ricky got up to head to the bathroom, heading out of the main event hall for a moment.

The detective came out a few minutes later, completely unaware of Ricky’s presence. He headed down the hall towards the entry, so Ricky hustled to his brief meeting location.

He quickly made his way to the back of the building, where the Mayor was waiting for him.

Slightly out of breath, he flashed a quick hand signal and the Mayor slowly pulled towards the parking lot. Ricky sat there for a moment and took a deep breath, fixing a few stray pieces of hair.

He walked back through the hallways and into the main event room again, politely sitting down. Fran and Banjo had gone to mingle with the others before he had left, leaving his dessert unguarded.

He sighed as he sat down, mourning the possible loss of a good dessert.

“No one’s touched it,” a seven-year-old told him from the other side of the table.

“Thank you miss, who are you again? A Jenkins, for sure, but I forget your name,” Ricky said, making sure to be friendly.

“I’m Lily. Who’re you?”

“My name’s Ricky. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lily Jenkins. Why did your parents leave you here?”

Lily looked down at her dessert plate and sighed, “They had to go talk to their ‘aDulT fRiENds’, and I hadn’t finished my dessert yet.”

“I’m sorry Lily, you can talk to me if you’d like. My friends left me too,” Ricky said with a smile.

“Okay, why’d your friends leave you? They acted kinda funny during dinner too.”

“They went to go talk to their ‘adult friends’. I didn’t plan on talking to anyone but one person this evening. They’ve already left though, so here I am,” Ricky sighed.

“Are they married,” Lily asked innocently, gesturing to Banjo and Fran again.

Ricky swallowed his pudding and answered, “No, but I think they might plan on it in the future.”

“Well she’s very pretty,” Lily said, staring directly at Ricky’s tie.

“That’s very kind of you to say, and you look pretty too, Lily. I love the blue on your dress!”

Lily beamed a smile at Ricky and exclaimed “Thank you!”

“Do you want to help me find my friends? We can also look for your parents too.”

“Sure,” Lily said and closely followed Ricky through parts of the crowd.

Truth be told, Ricky knew exactly where the Jenkins’ were, just not Banjo or Francesca. He managed to swerve a few conversations on the way to Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, but he knew he’d have to face them on the way back for sure.

Lily gave Ricky a hug and jogged over to her parents, followed by Ricky.

“Mister and Missus Jenkins! I had such a lovely evening conversing with you and your lovely daughter. I hope to see you again sometime soon!”

“Mister Goldsworth, we had quite the evening, thank you for keeping Lily company. Have an amazing evening,” Mrs. Jenkins said as Ricky quickly waved goodbye and went off to find Fran and Banjo. 

He got stopped 4 or 5 times by some people, then passed by a group of gossiping girls, getting looped into that for a moment. Apparently he had auctioned off a dance again this year. It’s no problem really, just awkward sometimes.

Ricky almost wanted to gag walking out of that circle, or laugh, but then he ran into Claire again.

“Hey Ricky! Hope the wolves didn’t devour you over there. I did warn some of the other nurses not to do that, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I do love a good compliment once in a while. It does get lonely up in the mansion once in a while,” Ricky fake chuckled.

“Okay, I guess you’ll know who to look for if you ever decide to go on any dates. How’s the gardening been this summer?”

“Very good, I’ll be making salsa with the remaining tomatoes and peppers soon. I’ll be sure to give you a jar, with some peaches,” Ricky said excitedly.

“Thank you! I’m sure me and Holly will enjoy some fresh food for once, if you’re willing to part with it!”

“It’s no problem for a friend,” Ricky said, spotting Fran and Banjo at the doors, “Thank you for the fun evening, but I’m afraid I must be leaving.”

“Goodbye Ricky,” Claire smiled.

There were still about half the guests around the building when the trio left, the Mayor picking them up rather quickly. He handed Ricky a slip of paper and began driving back to the manor.

“Did you leave our lovely guest’s bags in their room while we were at the event,” Ricky calmly asked the Mayor.

“Yes Sir, is there anything else that you need on our way or when we get back to the Manor?”

“No, thank you Mayor,” Ricky chimed back after looking at his guests for their answers.

“So glad that you’re staying with us, how long is your visit?”

Banjo cleared his throat and said, “We were thinking a week if that’s okay with you. Fran has some business a city over, but she hates hotels and the auction was a pretty good way for me to scope out some jobs, so I have some work to do as well.”

“Oh no, that’s perfectly fine with me, I just wanted a time estimate for the Mayor’s sake, food preparation and all that. I hope you enjoy your stay, I will for sure enjoy the company,” Ricky chuckled.

“Yeah, because you’re so lonely without us,” Francesca rolled her eyes.

“Clients who want me to kill people and actual friends are very different. Also, you guys are my only criminal friends that visit often, so your company is welcome whenever you feel necessary,” Ricky smiled at his companions.

They continued speaking for a couple more minutes, then the conversation dulled to a comfortable silence. Ricky unfolded the paper in his hands and made a note to give the Mayor a bonus in his next paycheck. 

_ The complex right off of main, red brick. It’s the fourth floor up, right on the fire escape. _

Yep, definitely giving him a bonus.

When they pulled into the long gravel driveway, Ricky quickly told Fran where the room that she and Banjo would be staying in was, then hopped up to his office for a moment. He pulled on a plain black jacket and trousers, removing his tie and grey vest. He decided on his signature knife, as well as a throwing knife in case things went really south.

He slipped a vial of golden ink into his pocket, as well as a pen. Nobody will question stationary, Ricky supposed. He unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons on the way down to the garage, humming a little tune.

It never hurt to be prepared, that’s what Ricky learned pretty early on from his mother. Sure she was talking about her business and not murder, but that never stopped Ricky from applying her advice. His special knife was always stored in an inside pocket on his suit, specially tailored to hide it. The throwing knife went in a special strap around his calf, to avoid harming the pocket. 

He decided on his usual car, the one he’d bought for himself as a ‘disappointed dad finally died’ present. It was a nice car, a shiny black 1946 Bentley. Stealthy enough for his job, and looks really cool too.

The radio was turned down to quiet, as Ricky always enjoyed some music while driving. In better circumstances than murder or stalking, he would generally have it as loud as was socially acceptable.

The late-night channels weren’t all that good either, in Ricky’s opinion. No fun new music or classy old songs, just bleh. But music was music, in the Goldsworth’s cars.

He passed by the apartment complex, for now, deciding that tonight was not the night, not yet at least. He drove a little while further through town, stopping right next to a bar. Time to work some of that Goldsworth charm.

He noticed that his latest target wasn’t there yet, either still at the auction or working an extremely late shift. But he would be there, he reassured himself as he sat down at the bar.

“The usual?”

“I can't get too drunk on duty, so I’ll start with a Tom Collins please,” Ricky said.

“Interesting, never took you as much of a gin guy Goldsworth,” the olive-skinned bartender smirked, “and I saw that Detective you’ve been looking for earlier this evening.”

“Really? What did he ask for? Did he act strange? He must have stopped before the dinner,” Ricky started to go on a rant before Paula cut him off.

“Ricky, you said you were on duty. Pay attention. He ordered a flask of whiskey, I’d say about 6 ounces. I told him to swing by sometime, then he walked out,” she said, handing him a glass then pouring in some club soda.

“You’re right by the way, I’m not much of a gin person, in fact, I hate the stuff. But with enough lemon and club soda, the taste is bearable. And I told you, I can't get too drunk,” Ricky said, pulling the slice of lemon and cherry off.

He ate the cherry and plopped the lemon in the drink. Paula rolled her eyes and walked off to the next customer. 

Ricky sipped at his drink for a good five minutes before he spotted him, Charles Slater. He walked off to the other side of the bar, pretending like he was a newcomer, and sat down next to Mister Slater.

“You been here before?”

“Yes, it’s kind of my regular spot,” Slater responded, taking a gulp from his pint glass.

“Got any recommendations for a newcomer? Anything I should stay away from?”

“You new in town? Everyone goes to the silver spoon.”

So he didn’t recognize him, even better, “Yeah, I’m stopping by on my way to visit my mom.”

“Lemme buy you a drink,” he smirked, “Paula, will you get this nice young man a Manhattan, and another round for me.”

“Sure sir,” Paula said, dropping by their drinks in a few minutes.

“Thank you so much, I can pay for mine if you’d like,” Ricky offered.

“No, it’s on me for tonight. You said you were visiting your mom?”

“Yeah, before I start another year of uni. I spent the summer traveling with a friend.”

“Interesting, what are you studying? I finished University a few years ago.”

“Finances, my dad wants me to take care of the business once he retires,” Ricky said, only telling a half-lie.

Charles continued to speak to Ricky, eventually paying the check, more than a little tipsy. Ricky waited a second, finished his second drink of the night, and gave Slater a thank you. 

He walked out the doors, then waited on the other side of Charles’s car, slipping a pair of black latex gloves on. When the man himself unlocked the doors, Ricky synchronized his motions with Charles and hopped in the back of his car.

Slater didn’t start his car very quickly, giving Ricky more than enough time to slip his hand into his pocket, douse his handkerchief with a little bit of chloroform. He always kept a tube of the stuff on him, on the job at least. It went right next to the throwing knife, in it’s own compartment of course.

He sprung out of his position to quickly subdue the man in the driver's seat. Slater thrashed and tried to shout for a solid two to three minutes before going still and quiet in Ricky’s arms. He hopped out of the car and moved Charles’s still breathing body to the back seat, leaving his hands unbound. 

_ Shit. I forgot some rope when I left.  _ Ricky sighed and walked over to his car, opening up the trunk and grabbing some of his shitty rope and an envelope with his other required materials. He hoped that Mr. Slater was not a struggler.

He tied Mr. Slater’s hands and feet up, placing him in the backseat to look like a passed out drunk. Then he hopped in the car and drove over by the docks, stopping at an old packing warehouse. That was his place, for now. He made sure to scope it out earlier, making sure the view was acceptable and the feeling was eerie enough when the sun went down.

Ricky lugged the body in the backseat to the second floor of the place, where all the windows were. There were two metal chairs in the middle of the room that he’d dropped by on his three am warehouse search. 

Charles was roughly flopped down onto one of the chairs, Ricky re-securing his ropes to that chair, with more difficulty than usual.

“God I hate these ropes. So much. Mental note: buy new rope for the car. The old stuff is frayed, weak, and soon to be bloodstained,” Ricky muttered to himself.

_ 10:47 pm.  _ He’d drugged Mr. Slater almost 15 minutes ago, so he should come out of it soon. The perfect amount of time to write a good letter, including the time when he would start to come out of it. He sat his chair a few feet across from Mr. Slaters, then walked to the doorway of the room.

He stood there for a minute, making sure that everything looked good, before he walked back out to the first floor, looking for a break room.

He was sure it was there, somewhere. He walked past a few old shipping containers and there it was. There had to be a counter or table in there for him to write on. Something smoother than the floors at least.

He pulled out the pen and ink from his pants pocket and the envelope from his back pocket. His knife was still in his suit jacket, and his emergency throwing knife was still in the holster, as well as a now-empty vial.

He shook out the paper and a photo from the envelope, grabbing the pen and unscrewing the vial. He doodled his little symbol on the picture, leaving it to dry as he thought about what to write.

He didn’t know a whole lot about the new detective in town, to be frank. He didn’t have clearance to the paperwork about him, so he asked Claire and a few co-workers what they knew. Which wasn’t much. The guy was pretty introverted. 

Even at the auction that night, he only caught a glimpse of messy brown hair and a very basic sense of style from three tables away. He seemed to be tall as well, but Ricky was always not good with height. Not unless they were point-blank in front of him, that is. 

He wrote a simplistic note and let the letters dry. He started to hear very muffled shouting from the floor above him. He rolled his eyes and sighed, quickly scribbling his final few words. He waited a moment, placing the photo and then the letter in the envelope. He pondered a moment before addressing it to “Detective”.

The shouting continued as Ricky wiped off his pen, sealed the vial, and put them back in his pocket. He started jogging up the stairs, stopping at the top to grab his knife, leaning against the doorway.

“Hello Charles,” Ricky said plainly, his voice projecting into the nearly empty space.

“Who are you,” Charles tried to sound confident, unable to hide the shake in his voice.

“Don’t worry about that, it won’t matter who I am in about... Thirty minutes,” Ricky said, approaching the back of his latest victim.

“What are you gonna do to me? I haven’t done anything, whatever it is you think I did,” he pleaded.

Ricky was now standing almost flush against the chair, then he bent down and whispered, “Eager aren’t we? I haven’t even told you why you’re here, Mister Slater.”

Charles shivered at the hot breath next to his ear, before gaining a little confidence.

“Let me see your face.”

Ricky quickly checked the rope at Charles’s wrists with a sharp tug, earning him a yelp from the older man. Secure enough for now.

“Charles, you seem to lack an understanding of who holds the power in this situation. Do you need a reminder, or can I trust you to keep your mouth shut for once in your life,” Ricky said, still in the same bent-over position.

“Y-yes sir,” Charles stuttered, the shakiness in his voice returning.

Ricky stood up and walked around to his chair sitting down. “Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can I ask a favor of you, Charles?”

Charles quickly nodded as Ricky pulled out the envelope from earlier. 

“Since I don’t plan on leaving a trace of my being here, I need you to seal this for me. I can promise that it won’t be going towards anything malicious,” Ricky said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

Charles nodded again and stuck his tongue out. Ricky quickly sealed the envelope, switching places with it on his chair.

“Now Charles. You aren’t such a bad person to the general public. Not like some of the liars and cheats I’ve killed. In fact, when they find you they will have absolutely no idea why you’re here. But you know why you’re here, don’t you Charles. I certainly remember. So tell me,” Ricky squatted to be face to face with Charles.

He lowered his voice, as it became a little shaky, “Do you remember me?”

The moonlight illuminated Ricky’s face to Charles, and Charles quietly observed the man in front of him for a moment.

“Richard?”

Charles took a deep breath, this wasn’t the Richard he remembered. The Richard from all those years ago, his Richard, was so much different from the man who stood in front of him. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t recognize the man at the bar, _It’s the eyes, always the eyes,_ Charles thought.

“In the flesh. Know why you’re here now?”

Charles remained silent, suddenly realizing the extent of how deep he was in it as he began shakily breathing quicker, “Richard, please think about what you’re going to do before you do anything rash.”

“Oh, I’ve thought about this for a loooooong time, Charles,” Ricky chuckled, “You see, you and I have some things to sort out. Well more like I have some things to tell you, I have waited ten years for this. You don’t seem like you have a lot to say either.”

Ricky stood up and took a deep breath, his face looking like a bad mix of vengeful and regretful.

“You do know what happened when you left, right? What you did to me? What he did to me?”

Truth be told, Charles remembered every second of his time with Ricky. That only made the memory of their last conversation more painful as he recalled what he said. 

_ - _

_ Ten years ago, Ricky is 15, Charles is 16, and Joseph is nearly 18 _

_ Joe had caught a quick kiss goodbye between the two. Nothing much, but it was enough. Charles pretended to hate the kiss, to panic and throw Joseph off his trail. _

_ But, it worked a little too well. Now he had somehow roped himself into a plot where they were going to expose Richard. Charles felt bad, but he was going to end things with Ricky anyways, so how much worse could it be?  _

_ The night of the plan, Charles swore he could almost throw up. Joseph had gotten a Charles doppelgänger so that he had an excuse. _

_ “Grandma, I’m not feeling too well. I called the Goldsworths and told them I’m not going to their party tonight. Can I go to bed really early to get some rest?” _

_ “Of course Charlie. A good boy like you deserves some extra rest, especially when he’s feeling sick. Yell down if you need anything, but I’ll be leaving you alone.” _

_ He checked his watch, now was the time. Exhaling loudly, Charles started to climb up an ivy trellis to Ricky’s window. A light turned on as he slid through the thankfully open glass. Checking his watch again, he had two minutes before Joseph and Ricky’s dad opened the door. _

_ “Charles? I knew you would come to say goodbye!” _

_ Ricky hopped on Charles, knocking him into the floor even further, peppering his face with kisses. _

_ “Couldn’t leave without one last kiss from my favorite little man,” Charles said, sitting up. Less than a minute. _

This was the part of the night where Charles hated himself the most. It was the worst night of his life, but it was all in ‘his’ own making.

_ Charles helped Ricky stand as Ricky chuckled out, “What do you me-“ _

_ Their lips were crashed together by Charles, Ricky being shoved up against his own wall. Ricky started a sigh that turned into a mild noise of shock when Charles broke the kiss. _

_ “I’m sorry, Richard,” he murmured before re-initiating the kiss, this time with tongue and hands in Ricky’s hair and a whole new level of passion. _

_ Charles was kissing Richard like there was no tomorrow. Ricky was shocked in a good way at first, and ‘not good’ shocked and horrified when not only Joseph walked into the room, but there was a low voice from the doorway. _

_ “Richard. Goldsworth. Get your ass. In my OFFICE,” he raised his voice even further when he noticed his son was still pinned back up against the wall, ”NOW!!” _

_ Charles made a clean escape to the window, climbing down faster than he thought his legs could take him. Richard looked terrified, but he had to leave. He peddled all the way back home and swapped spots with his doppelgänger, who had checked in with his Grandma twice to get the story straight. _

-

He spent the weekend in his room, then headed to boarding school with Joseph, where the incident was like their inside joke.

He’d never talked to Ricky after that day.

“Ricky please, you know I never meant to hurt you, just let me-“ Charles’ sobs were cut short by a cold voice. Clearly they had both envisioned the night.

“Don’t beg. And definitely don’t lie. It’s clear that we were over the second you left that room and packed your bags,” Ricky circled back around to face his ex, hovering over his face.

He stepped back and slipped his knife out of his suit jacket.

“I’ll tell you what he did, after you left me alone in that room. Joe was dismissed. He was smirking. I headed up to his office, and that's where beating number one happened,” Ricky raised his voice, slashing Charles’ cheek. Blood spilled out over his face, staining his shirt.

“Then I wouldn’t identify you ‘correctly’. I got grounded, thankfully. Then he couldn’t find you, and took that out on me too,” a stab to the shoulder, “and it,” another stab, “Just.” Stab. “Didn’t.” Stab. “Stop.” One final stab, as he chose to let the blade hover over the open wound.

Charles was sobbing and crying out over each individual plunge of the blade into his flesh.

Ricky placed the knife over Charles’s heart, “I’m sorry it had to be this way. But nobody betrays me. Nobody breaks my heart. And most importantly, now nobody knows,” he muttered, plunging the knife into the body.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Charles choked.

Ricky plunged the knife back in a few more times, blood oozing over his fingers, He dug really deep with the last one, twisting as Charles drew his last breath. That was the best revenge ever. Definitely beat Joseph’s pathetic whimpers of an apology.

“Now, where to best place an envelope on a bloody body,” Ricky wondered aloud, now in a much better mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh, Thanks for reading, please leave a kudos or comment, let me know if you hate this chapter because I can redraft it to be something else, I just thought that this would be a fun thing to try out writing. Also let me know if you like the chapter in the comments, just want to see a ratio of like to dislike.


	6. The First Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley gets his letter, and has a good day despite it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was ahead too. Well turns out I hated the first draft of this chapter so much that I wanted to burn it. :/ SO I did what any sensible author does and rewrote it until I was happy. Epic. I really hope you enjoy.

_Nobody likes mornings_ , Tinsley thought as he went into the lobby. He’d only had one cup of coffee, and some aspirin that morning, so he was not in a very good mood. Definitely not in a good enough mood to deal with what was awaiting him.

“Tinsley! Good to see you this morning. Captain S wants to see you, I don’t know why though. Good luck with that,” the redhead secretary, who he’d learned was named Anne, exclaimed.

Anne was very nice to everyone she saw come in and out of the lobby area. Cop, suspect, or anyone in between. She’d taken a particular shine to greeting anyone who looked like they were not having a very good day, or asking people how they were doing. Tinsley thought it was nice of her to be so sweet in the sea of crime that the people here worked in.

He headed down the hallway, passing his official ‘office’ to the door at the very end. Captain Saunders was not the most patient of people, but he was fair, and a sturdy core of the Police Department. Respected by all, but surprisingly he was only a few years older than Tinsley.

He knocked on the door, a reply quickly following, “Come in.”

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

“Ah yes, Detective. Take a seat please.”

“Uh, I was wondering why you called me in here. Do you want an update on the case? Anything new you’ve found?”

The captain took a deep breath, face falling into a steely expression, “I did call you in here because of the case. How’s it going, on that front.”

“Nothing super new. Some dirty secrets uncovered, but nothing that would reveal the killer. A good assumption; they seem to be targeting people with something to hide. I can’t exactly pin what two of the victims were keeping a secret, but it was something not so good based on the pattern I’ve seen in the others. The victims also likely knew their killer, the choice of a knife and stabbing to death making the crime personal to the killer. Weapon of choice is a knife, with a blade about 4-5 inches long. I had hoped that the ink used would reveal who we are looking for,” Tinsley almost happily explained.

He was glad that he wasn’t in trouble and he got to give a non-report update on the case. It was always more fun to say it in person, where you could see the reaction.

“Impressive work. I can tell the officers that we’re looking for that pattern now when they interview people. Anything else about that ink or something?”

“Well, I have not yet heard anything from office supply stores, printing presses, or even the mail people. It would be more expensive to buy, however. That and the polaroids say that this killer has taste, and the money to do so. That rules out the homeless, and everyone in this town without the funds to afford a Polaroid camera.”

“Do you know the killer, Detective?”

Tinsley was taken by surprise when those words left his superior’s mouth. 

“No, what happened to give you that idea? If I knew who it was, they’d be arrested and awaiting trial by now,” Tinsley explained, still a little shocked by the implications of the Captain’s words.

“This is what I actually called you in for, Detective. Glad to hear an update though, of course,” Saunders explained, pulling out an evidence bag from his desk drawer.

He pulled on a pair of gloves, guiding Tinsley towards the Forensics lab. Tinsley pulled on a pair as well once they got into the room itself. Captain Saunders plopped the bag down on a counter and looked towards Tinsley.

“Open it. We found it during the autopsy. If you would have cared enough to stay at the scene or the building for more than an hour today. I want you to be the one to read it first.”

“I wasn’t feeling well early this morning. Certainly not at four in the morning. I don’t know how you guys got on that scene. I missed the autopsy because I was making calls to schedule the last couple interviews for the last one. Some people are hard to track down, ya know?”

“I definitely understand you there. Detective work does not sound fun. I do not envy you one bit, Tinsley. Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to the bag with a small chuckle.

Tinsley cautiously opened the evidence bag, dumping out an envelope with a slight bloodstain on one corner. 

“Did you guys lose the Polaroid? I hear this body didn’t come with one. It might not be my case,” Tinsley said with a hint of hope, before flipping over the letter.

_Damn._ It was addressed to “Detective” in beautiful swirling cursive. He could only assume that meant him, considering he was the only homicide detective on a job right now. Great. Now serial killers were trying to contact him. If it wasn’t his case already it was about to be.

The detective in question used a letter opener provided by Saunders to slice the top of the envelope. He pulled out the contents, gently, making sure not to disturb anything too much. There was the Polaroid and a folded piece of paper. From what he could tell, the envelope and paper were nice, further proving his theory on the financial status of the killer. The handwriting on the envelope and on the piece of paper were written in the same gold ink as the symbol on all of the polaroids. Including this new one that was included in the envelope. _Okay, we’re getting letters from the person I’m investigating, this is fine, this is totally fine,_ Tinsley quickly thought to himself, panicking. _But hey, evidence is evidence,_ the voice in the back of his head told him. He guessed the voice could be right in a way. Hopefully, this had something in it.

“Care to read it aloud,” the Captain questioned the man who had gone silent at the counter, still looking at the Polaroid and envelope.

“You can read. I don’t like reading aloud anyways. Distracts from my thinking about something,” Tinsley snapped back quickly.

He unfolded the letter entirely, seeing a shorter note on the page. He read the words written in the same curling gold handwriting, beginning;

_Dearest Detective,_

_Our last encounter was quite one-sided, too one-sided in my opinion. Your odd and intelligent behaviors are quite contrary to your blundering predecessor. I would quite like to get to know you, Detective. You seem like an intriguing man. But the chase is quite the thrill, dear (though I suppose it is less fun for you and your little circus of police). And I would regret giving you the satisfaction of my identity so soon. There is still work to be done, and information to obtain. Until that day, darling, enjoy the pursuit while you can. I know I will._

_I’ll see you soon,_

_G_

“It seems you have an admirer, Detective. Though I’m not sure their intent. Sorry, they’re a killer.”

That wasn’t good. Tinsley thought for a moment, he’d have to process the letter later. He chuckled along with his superior, internally confused.

Letters were sometimes the first mistake made by killers. Maybe it would be a fingerprint on the envelope, or a clue alluding to their identity in the possible next letter. They were rather useful in pinning suspects, down to the handwriting and all.

Tinsley decided to leave the letter to the forensics team now that he’d read it. He should get it back, or a copy of it, when they were done analyzing it.

“I have some more work to do, it seems. I’ll plan on doing some interviews today and tomorrow. Where’s the case file?”

“Freddie has it. Be careful though, the kid’s got an obsession over being a detective. If he asks to come along, maybe let him. He’s really harmless. Just don’t break his spirit with your bluntness please,” Saunders sighed, walking out of the room to find someone in forensics.

Tinsley thought on his way to meet Freddie. What should he say if the kid wanted to come along? What if he wanted to do like a ‘follow Tinsley for the day’ thing? He couldn’t just dump him off with another officer. He still hadn’t met a lot of the officers, though it was coming up on his third and a half week of the job. _Damn, I should have solved this by now,_ Tinsley thought frustratedly.

“Hello? Freddie?” He said into the lobby, where Saunders had directed him to.

“Detective? Is that you? Captain said you’d be here, I’m Fred Long. I’m a secretary here, on the other side of the building. You’ll mostly deal with Anne. Big fan of your work by the way, I did the research about you for Holly since she was busy.”

Tinsley didn’t know what to say to the person, or he should say, teen. Freddie, as he should have assumed by the name, was a teen. He was shorter than Tinsley by almost a foot, but somehow he looked stronger than Tinsley would ever be. _A nerdy jock huh_ , Tinsley thought.

“Hello Fred, I am Detective Tinsley. I hear you have a case file for me?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. It’s at my desk. Let’s go get it,” Fred awkwardly ran a hand through his blonde hair, internally cursing himself for forgetting the file.

Tinsley followed him through some hallways to another lobby looking area. It was the place with the holding cells. He must be the part-time receptionist over here. 

“Here it is! I had to type up some of the paperwork on my typewriter, that’s why it was at my desk,” Fred exclaimed after shuffling through a relatively clean desk. Tinsley was somewhat jealous, having only kept his at-home office clean for about 2 days after he got it.

The office here was quite clean in all reality, which Tinsley was fine with. He just hated the constant lingering smell of cigarettes and the old tenant’s style. He supposed that stuff just came with age. And smoking indoors. 

Tinsley was walking out the front door when Holly knocked straight into him, sending him and the file straight to the floor, papers escaping the Manila folder. Holly hopped right up and offered him a hand, still getting her bearings back in order it seemed.

“Sorry, oh, OH, it’s YOU! Hi Tinsley! You’re who I was hoping to catch here. Ummmmmm, anyways. Do you want to go bowling with me and Claire? There’s this new place like 45 minutes out it's on the boardwalk. I don’t really like bowling but I wanted to make sure she had fun tonight because she had a really rough day at the hospital, so I agreed and then she told me to ask you to come because she wants to get to know you and she knows that you haven’t been able to get a lead lately and I don’t know we thought it might just be f-“

Holly had started a very fast speaking rant before Tinsley cut her off, “Sure. Will I need to bring a car?”

Holly looked surprised when Tinsley turned back around from picking up the papers that had spilled, standing up. Holly was still processing the fact that he had said yes when he spoke again.

“I’m horrible at bowling, but anything for you and Claire. You have already been so nice to me. Now, do I need to bring a car? Can you pick me up? What time?”

“We can pick you up, it’s at 4. We’re gonna go to a diner first and make an evening out of it. We can pick you up after our dinner if you’d like. I know you have been in kind of a no lead depression though, and as a previous detective, I can say that doing something else helps. You’re so sweet,” Holly said, walking back out of the building. 

Tinsley noticed some strange looking people going into the building on his way out. He ignored them however and moved on to the case ‘to-do list’ for the day. He was almost done with all the basic work like interviews for this last murder, as she’d been quite the woman, though not a good one. This guy would be easy, he had two friends listed, one being dead, only his parents. Well, there HAD to be a connection between two cases, Tinsley excitedly thought to himself.

He pulled out of the parking lot with a small smile on his face, really excited for the week now. He would get to know Holly’s friend, and hopefully get a new lead in the case he was following! He’d get to close it and go home to Buddy and booze for a few weeks before they call him to some dumb robbery or something.

For now, he had to go speak to Mr. Orion and the final statement, her teenage son. They had been the hardest to track down, grieving for a week, then going on a father-son trip, then just avoiding Tinsley’s calls entirely. It really was quite rude and suspicious in his opinion. Then he would go to his apartment and start making calls to talk to the few in town associates of Mr. Slater, and finally do some work on the board in his office. There was a new update after all.

He pulled up to the Orion house, your basic white Picket fence slapped right around the properties in this neighborhood. Lovely.

He knocked on Mr. Orion’s door, it being opened by a dirty blonde teen. Her son.

“Daaaad! The questioning guy’s here about mom! You are here for that, right?”

“Yes? Is it really that obvious? I’m just here to ask some questions about the case so we know if there was anything or anyone who could have done this, and why. I want this case to be off my chest almost as much as you do.”

The Orions were rude to Tinsley, that was the first thing he noticed. No hello, no basic kindnesses, just walking to the kitchen table for a round of questions.

He pulled out his notepad and a pen from behind his ear, watching Mr. Orion takes a swig from a flask. He didn’t seem that sad, despite grieving being his reason to avoid Tinsley.

“Patrick please wait in the living room or your room. I should be done in what, like 10 minutes,” Mr. Orion told his son, looking towards Tinsley for an answer.

“Depends on what you’re willing to tell me, sir.”

“Okay, whatever. What are your questions.”

-

Mr. Orion's statement was rudely blunt. He had nothing to do with his wife’s career, her home life was normal, and she noted nobody new in her life towards her death. People would talk badly about her sometimes but nobody wanted her dead like that.

Patrick nervously walked up to the table, his father stepping out of the room and closing the door without a word. 

“Hello, Patrick. Named after your mom?”

“Yes sir,” the boy said timidly, avoiding looking at Tinsley, especially his face.

“Do you know if anyone didn’t like your mom? Any enemies in this town?”

Tinsley’s first question had to shake him up a little, but be gentle at the same time. He didn’t want to scare the kid off on the first question, but get the really serious things out of the way first. 

“What? No, not like that. She did spark some controversy over some of her land prices, but people loved the places she sold overall. Some people did always hold a small resentment, but that was about it.”

“Okay, that’s good information. Did your mom like her life at home? Was she home often?”

The boy got a little foggy eyed with this question, “Yes. She was kind of the glue to this family. Funny, nice to us, took me and dad to ball games when she could. She did chores too and cooking. A multitasker in every sense of the word. We would have family dinner at least four times a week.”

“Did your mother say anything strange before her death?”

There was a pause, the air going silent for a moment, “No. But there was a man. He was a client, looking for a seafront property. She went to meet with him the day she died. He was looking into something a little more expensive, but he didn’t end up buying as far as I’m aware. Mom would always talk about it on the way home from school when she picked me up, he stopped for a moment before saying “Oh, but she did meet with some other clients after him, he did meet with her in the morning.”

Tinsley scribbled away at his notepad. Well, unsurprisingly the killer was likely a male. Either that or the unlikely chance that he was the bait. But considering psychologically most people feel more comfortable around women, more likely to follow them somewhere than a man. And Patricia was married, with a child. Not the cheater type either, so it would seem.

“This man, did she ever say his name? Did you overhear any calls? Would you be able to recognize his voice? Does she have an office?”

Tinsley got a little ahead of himself with the questions, but that’s what happened when he got a lead. He did love getting himself some new information that could lead to the capture of a killer.

“No, no, no, and yes. She never said his name, and I’ve never heard a call, but she does have an office. Would you like to see it,” the boy questioned, having gained enough confidence to do so during their conversation.

“Yes, if that’s okay. That will be all my questions, thank you.”

Patrick led Tinsley to his mother’s office, standing in the doorway while Tinsley rummaged through the very simple room. It had a filing cabinet, a desk, and a small sitting area, probably to speak with clients. She seemed to work exclusively at her house, impressive. She went through the filing cabinet and half the desk to find what he was looking for, his golden ticket of sorts. 

“Yes,” he said a little louder than he should. 

“Did you find something?”

“I found what I needed, kid. I’ll be taking your mother’s client logbook, if that’s okay with your father.”

“Fine with me,” Mr. Orion grumbled from the hallway.

“Thank you, Orions. You’ve been a great help,” Tinsley said, somewhat icy towards Mr. Orion still. He was an ass, so he did deserve it. His wife was the one murdered, sure, Tinsley reasoned. Still didn’t give him any right to be rude to the person trying to solve said murder though. 

“Goodbye Detective.”

Tinsley hopped back in his car, that batch of interviews being very successful and beneficial. He felt so close to what he needed to find. It was no longer negativity that he felt towards this chase, but excitement and fascination. He supposed he was enjoying the chase as the killer was but in a very different way. He had some calls to make when he got home.”

-

Tinsley slammed the phone book shut an hour later, and went to his office at home for a couple of hours to end up where he was now. Still in his office, waiting for the very swiftly approaching four o’clock. Buddy had decided to join him, sitting on his lap sleeping as Tinsley read. The sun drifted lazily through the blinds, warming the already warm chubby cat on Tinsley’s lap. He was reading some poetry, in wait for the next phase of his research to begin later.

There were three sharp knocks on his door, as Tinsley silently groaned. He felt some excitement but sadness as to ruin the peace of having a furry animal giving you its undivided attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I will try to regulate my posting schedule to Friday in the early afternoon (PST). Love you guys. Thanks for hopefully understanding, I love all of you who are still here with me. Feel free to drop a Kudos or a comment to let me know if you liked it, or what I can do better, just something like that. thank you :)


	7. Tea is Just Pompous Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley is a third wheel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not think tea is pompous water. You will see. Thanks for tuning back in this week. Enjoy!

Holly and Claire had come to pick up Tinsley for bowling, their hands intertwined. Claire attacked Tinsley in a hug the second he opened the door, almost dragging Holly to crash into them.

“Tinsley!!”

“Hi guys,” Tinsley said, being halfway crushed around the middle by Claire. Claire was tall for a woman, but still only a little taller than Holly. However, both women were still extremely strong. Holly from her years as an officer and Claire, hell he didn’t know how the woman was almost stronger than Holly.

“Hello Tinsley,” Holly shyly said behind her partner, seeming a little embarrassed.

“She’s fine Holly,” Tinsley said, still somewhat losing air, “How are you, Claire? Thank you for inviting me. Can you maybe let go of me now?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she released Tinsley from her arms, “I get excited to see people, especially Holly’s friends. I hear that you are quite the detective. Holly and I just want to make sure you know your way around the town and it’s people. Sorry I didn’t get to see you at the auction for more than a few minutes. I was busy.”

Tinsley gave one of his small smiles as he simply stated, “It’s okay, I’m excited to officially meet you too. That’s very kind of you to want me to know what I’m doing around these parts.”

“Well I wanted you to get out of that damn office for the first time in days, for fun and not interrogating people,” Holly chuckled, “Claire just provided a convenient excuse to do so. Welcome to bowling with two almost old ladies, Detective.”

“We’re not that old Holly,” Claire said, taking Holly’s hand again.

They turned and started to walk towards the girls’ lovely yellow car. Tinsley had to squeeze into the back seat this time, but he didn’t really mind. Not a lot of cars catered to his height, or his long legs. Especially not compact ones. Nonetheless, he got into the backseat and waited for the car to start and begin to speed forward. Holly did have a bit of a problem with speeding.

“I gotta ask, where are your husbands? Are you two just widows, good friends, or what?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Holly began.

“Amazing friends, we met at a recruitment tent 12 or so years back. Clicked immediately, and I loved when she was questioning the choices she had to serve. She really wanted to be a part of the fighting, not the busy work,” Claire explained, “We can tell you the full story at dinner. We decided to just go to the Cactus Blossom. It has great tacos, hope you enjoy Mexican.”

“Yeah, Holly told me about it a little bit on our way here. I don’t think I’ve had a taco. My parents didn’t like them, because they were ‘too spicy’ and I’ve never thought to get or make myself one. I would probably burn down the kitchen trying to make one if I’m being honest,” Tinsley said, looking at the back of Holly’s seat.

Claire laughed, and even Holly grinned a little, “Honey, we gotta teach you to cook. Can’t have our best detective working himself to death, then burning down his apartment complex with the evidence in it!”

“Excuse you but I make an AMAZING grilled cheese,” Tinsley interjected, only making Claire laugh harder.

“Seriously though, don’t work yourself to death, this sicko will be caught eventually Tinsley,” Holly said, staring back at Tinsley through the mirror. She looked legitimately concerned.

Tinsley wasn’t too worried about his health, to be honest, he had been searching for a lead like this for almost a month, and now two of the victims had been friends, and there’s a pattern emerging from most of the victims. It was almost like a miracle, he thanked god silently when he’d read that in the case file. He only slept or ate when he needed to, making sure not to worry Holly or his boss too much.

They pulled into the small restaurant parking lot, hopping out of the car. Claire smoothed down her nice skirt and Holly tugged up her messier jeans a little. Tinsley guessed opposites do attract after all. 

They walked into the restaurant with Tinsley in tow, definitely an odd group, two ladies with grey or graying hair and a younger beanpole. Except Tinsley seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit. The atmosphere of the place was quite vibrant for his tastes, but he could enjoy the lively green tables and the smell of cooking meat. There were cactuses and paintings of deserts everywhere along the yellow walls. It really was photo-esque, when Tinsley really looked at it. 

Claire sat down at a table, followed quickly by Tinsley and Holly. A joyful waitress came to serve them, her tanned hands passing out the menus. 

“Hola Holly, Claire, and  _ invitado _ . What can I get you to drink this evening?”

“Hi Rosa, glad to see you again! Are you enjoying working here?”

Tinsley sat awkwardly until they were done talking and politely asked for water. Holly ordered a beer and Claire a lemonade. Rosa handed out the menus and left to assemble the drink orders.

“That was Rosa. She’s our favorite waitress, always gives the best customer service. This is her parent’s restaurant,” Holly explained.

Tinsley continued reading the menu, nodding at Holly, “I’m not too hungry. I might not get anything if I’m honest.”

“Oh don’t be silly. A man of your height? You at least have to try their chips and salsa,” Claire rolled her eyes.

“Is the rice any good? I might just have some of that.”

“That’s a side, dear.”

Tinsley just sighed and put his menu down. Holly looked somewhat bothered, staring off into a painting of prickly pear flowers. Claire put her menu down and proceeded to talk to Tinsley about the food when Rosa walked back up to them. She handed out the drinks and pulled out a small notepad from a pocket in her plain black apron.

“The usual for you and Holly?”

“Yes, and a bowl of mild salsa. Thank you so much, you are so kind dear,” Claire responded. Holly snapped out of her solemn expression, looking to thank Rosa too.

“I don’t think I’m that hungry, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll have that right out for you,” Rosa said, with a dark pink lipped smile.

-

Dinner was quite fun, all things considered. He didn’t end up eating much, but that didn’t stop Holly and Claire from trying to get him to try the salsa. Tinsley couldn’t stop thinking about the case however, no matter what interesting story Holly was telling, or what questions Claire had about his job. It really was quite annoying when he thought about it, but he also did enjoy the train of thought for when the car ride went silent, or when he decided to eat some chips and dip at the restaurant.

The bowling alley was a solid 10 minutes away, filled with more stories from Holly and laughter from Claire. Tinsley tried to participate in their conversation, but it felt so close like he wasn’t supposed to be there. They pulled into the parking lot and walked into the doors of the place.

Tinsley immediately smelled ‘bowling alley’ and old shoes. Not the most pleasant of combinations. He and the girls paid for their shoes and their alley, Tinsley struggling to find a bowling shoe in his size. He had to wait by the counter for a minute while they checked their back room for a men’s 12, really not that uncommon, in Tinsley’s opinion. But, then again, nobody over the height of 5’11” went bowling anymore apparently. The teenaged worker handed off the shoes and got the alleyway set up for them, reminding them of how to keep score.

Claire got her shoes on the fastest and walked off to find a bowling ball of the correct weight. Holly quickly finished tying her shoes and looked back towards Tinsley.

“You should take a break,” she said, sounding very concerned.

Tinsley put on his other shoe responding “But I’ve come across something new Holly. I’m on my way to finding this killer. You said you’d needed my help. What happened to that?”

“Yes, we do need your help. I thought things wouldn’t come to this, but you’re in danger now. Your personal safety matters, to me and Claire.”

“I’m always in danger as a detective Holly. What’s so different about this. I knew the risks when I took the job back in Chicago, why would this be any different?”

“Trust me, this killer is starting to tread on dangerous ground of their own. I will trust you to stay safe. Don’t let them drag you along, Tinsley. Don’t let us lose you,” Holly said, looking directly into Tinsley’s eyes.

“I promise, Holly. I won’t lose you and Claire in the chase.”

Holly was very obviously relieved by that, though her eyes betrayed her partially. Showing a little bit of the uncertainty she had towards Tinsley keeping his promise. Claire then walked back towards the group with two bowling balls. 

“Sorry Tinsley, I don’t know what weight you like to use. Holly likes to use a 10, and I grabbed my own from the car,” Claire said, looking a little winded and holding a blue bag.

“Thanks dear. Tinsley can just go look at that rack for a moment,” Holly said, putting on a little smile. 

Tinsley walked off, electing to not tie his shoes first. He thought about what Holly’s warning could mean. What could she possibly be talking about, the letter? The pictures? The connection? She knew something about what was happening, but somehow she couldn’t tell him. 

He tested out a ten, then a twelve. He decided on the latter. This case obviously was bothering Holly suddenly. He walked back over to where Holly and Claire were waiting for him. 

“Ladies first,” he said, getting a slight chuckle out of his friends.

“Yeah, you first Tinsley,” Holly laughed back out.

They spent a solid minute laughing at the stupid joke, Claire deciding to go first after all. She only missed one pin, earning a laugh from Tinsley.

“What’s so funny Tinsley?”

“I’m screwed,” Tinsley said through a small laugh.

They stopped halfway through the round when Tinsley decided to buy them a round of drinks from the bar. Claire, being their driver, got another lemonade. Holly and Tinsley got beers, already losing by a substantial amount. Tinsley was by far the loser, only knocking over around 20 pins. He got a lot of dashes on the score sheet they got from the teen attendant.

“I’ll pay for drinks. Since I’m losing so bad anyways,” Tinsley said, taking another swig of his drink.

“Hey man, Holly might slip up. Keep that chin up,” Claire said with a big smile. 

“Don’t curse my second half! I still have a chance! I still have the lead, CC. Don’t you forget it.”

Tinsley ended up paying for their drinks anyways.

“Don’t feel bad Tinsley. Everyone loses sometimes,” Claire said, patting him on the back.

“Eh, I told you I was bad at bowling anyways, so it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I would have paid for the drinks either way,” Tinsley said, relaxed and happier than he’d been in a while.

“Well I’m not sad that you lost at all. Such a pitiful fall for the giant man,” Holly chimed in from the side of Claire.

They returned their shoes and placed their bowling balls back in the correct places, thanking the boy at the counter on their way out. Tinsley grabbed Claire’s bag for her.

In the car Claire put on some music, turning up the volume to a substantial amount. Holly seemed to be fine with it, so Tinsley didn’t ask. He placed the bowling ball at his feet.

“Do you think Mr. M’s is still open,” She questioned, pulling back onto the road.

“Yeah, it's only 8. We should go somewhere else. Tinsley, you know anywhere?”

“We should just stop back in town for ice cream or something, then you guys can drop me off,” Tinsley said.

They listened to music on the way home, no more talking other than Claire and sometimes Holly singing along to the songs on the radio. They rolled down the windows on some of the empty roads, and after what only felt like five minutes, pulled into Mr. M’s soda shop at 8:50.

They walked in, sat down right at the bar, and started looking at the menu above their heads. The older soda shop owner walked up to them after taking some empty glasses from the other side of the bar and cleaning them.

“I’m thinking a root beer float,” Holly said confidently.

“I’ll take a scoop of vanilla in a bowl, please, and he’ll have a scoop of coffee.”

Mr. M set towards scooping the ice cream. He plopped a scoop of vanilla in a bowl, then coffee, then a few smaller scoops in a glass. He placed the ice cream down at the counter, taking the top off a bottle of root beer. 

“Nice to see you Holly, who’s the new guy?”

“I’m Detective Tinsley, nice to meet you,” Tinsley chimed in for himself.

“Hi Detective, I’m Mr. M, as you’ve probably guessed. Here’s your desserts,” he replied, pouring Holly’s root beer part of her float.

The three thanked him and dug into their desserts, Tinsley glad that he could spend a little more time with Holly and Claire. They were his first real friends in a long time, which was kind of sad he supposed.

“Did Holly tell you about your press debut yet?”

“What,” Tinsley spluttered through his ice cream.

“Don’t surprise him like that, Claire. You were in a picture of the auction, I wrote the article, but the photographer took the photos. Blame him instead,” Holly added in quickly.

“Oh, yeah, nobody really knows who you are still, just a photo in the local paper,” Claire added to Holly’s statement.

“If you want it to stay that way, I would suggest keeping that little letter private, Tinsley. Things like that don’t go down too well, especially for the cop side of things,” Holly said.

Tinsley nearly choked on his ice cream for a second time, Claire asking, “Oooh, what’s this about a letter?”

“Nothing! Holly, the press only knows about the killer, and that the police are handling it. Thank you for your concern though,” Tinsley said, a little icily.

To be honest, he was still trying to figure out this whole letter business. It had to have something to do with the murder, or a clue, or just not him. The killer didn’t know him, he couldn’t. 

“Okay, I’ll back off. Has your coffee addiction really reached the point of ice cream too?” Holly laughed.

“Oh? Does our new friend have a caffeine problem? Sounds familiar,” Claire said, looking at Holly seriously.

Tinsley laughed, “Yeah, Ho-lly, does it sound familiar?”

Holly’s cheeks turned a vibrant pink as she stuttered out, “Tea is nothing like your vile bean juice, leave me and my leaves be.”

“Tea is just pompous water? Why do you enjoy that stuff?”

That argument went on for a solid five minutes, until they got back into the car, much to Claire’s dismay. She found both liquids to be disgusting, to be honest. She, by a considerable amount, preferred hot chocolate and found it to be much less addictive and harmful. The Horsley-Miller residence always had tea and the ingredients to Claire’s neighborhood famous hot chocolate. The kids in the neighborhood always tried to stop by when they could, when she wasn’t on a shift, of course.

-

They took Tinsley back to his apartment, and started their own drive home, with a thank you and some goodnights from both parties. Holly looked to be quite tired, but Claire still stopped the car in the garage, pressing a kiss to Holly’s cheek.

“Thanks for the great night babe. You’re the best.”

Holly turned red, “You’re welcome dear. I know you had a rough day, but always remember that you have people there for you.”

They went to the living room, Holly dropping Claire’s bowling ball off in their sports stuff closet. She also put some water on the stove for her nightly cup of tea.

“The night isn’t over yet,” Holly said, putting Claire’s favorite record, “Dance with me?”

Claire’s face lit up, “Of course.”

Holly pulled Claire in, breathing in the lovely rose perfume she always wore. She was perfect in every way and more beautiful than ever. She was very glad to have this wonderful woman in her life, in her arms.

The living room was their ballroom, their casual outfits were beautiful evening gowns. They could only do this in their home, their sanctuary to dance, be themselves.

They spun, twirled, and giggled their way through the music, and Holly snuck in a kiss to the mouth halfway through their third song. The last song came to a stop, and they slowly made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand. Holly made her cup of tea, Claire continuing onto the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. They met back up in their bedroom, Holly already sitting. 

“I’m gonna read tonight, do you mind if I leave the light on?”

“Of course honey. You’re so sweet,” Claire said, kissing Holly on the forehead and then the mouth, turning off her own lamp.

Holly sighed taking in the beautiful woman in front of her, watching her fall asleep. Once she was absolutely sure Claire was asleep, she turned off her own light. She snuck into the bathroom, sad to be gone again, putting on a pair of slacks and a nice blouse.

She checked on Claire again before walking to the garage, planting another small kiss on her forehead. She was dead asleep, tired from her day at the hospital and their outing. She felt terrible that she had to do this, but it was for her.

She took the covers off her old motorcycle in the garage, taking the 10-minute drive to the pier. She got off on the side of the road, walking towards the glassy sea, the moon illuminating the ocean.

There was a figure at the end of the pier, standing in wait. She’d seen a car further up the road, must be his.

She walked towards the back of the figure, almost silently, when a voice spoke up.

“Hello Holly, what brings you to the pier tonight?”

“Richard. Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the moon is hitting the water quite elegantly. The weather is also very tame, not too hot,” Ricky said, still standing at the edge of the pier, pausing to take in the view, “Why are you here?”

“Because I knew you’d be here,” Holly responded curtly.

“And why would you want to see me? We have a deal, what changed? You and your precious Claire are safe, I told you. Did I step over the boundaries of-“ Ricky stopped himself mid-sentence.

“This is because of the detective,” He sighed, though it sounded like a laugh at the end.

Holly stopped halfway to Ricky, confused that he caught on that quickly, “Yes, this is about Tinsley.”

It was silent for a moment, the sound of the waves being the only ambiance until Ricky turned around and spoke, “Well?”

“I want you to leave him alone. Don’t contact him, don’t play with him, just do your whole ‘vengeance’ thing until he catches you.”

Ricky actually did let out a chuckle now, “And why should I? Where in our little deal does it say ‘leave the smart detective alone’?”

“I could still expose you, you know. And not for the killing,” Holly said.

“Oh dear,” Ricky deadpanned, sounding bored with this conversation already. 

He began walking towards the older woman, “You see, Holly, I could say the same for you. So I’ll do whatever I want to that detective. Write letters, contact him, ruin his reputation, etcetera, etcetera. He interests me, that Detective of yours is a different breed for sure. Not social, but not awkward in most social situations, intelligent enough to knock your socks off, and most importantly brand new. Fresh out of the box.”

Holly was cornered, that was for sure, “Please. It’s for both of your safety. Both of you have something up your sleeve, and I’m not sure either of you want to find out what the other has.”

“I’m not backing down, and it seems neither is he. Have a good night, Holly,” Ricky said, walking off of the pier. 

After he was in his car and gone, Holly made her way back to her bike, spending the ride stressed for Tinsley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop me a comment or Kudos if you’re enjoying.


	8. A Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley does some light reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s a day late, but enjoy.

_ Dear Detective, _

_ This will be my fourth letter, without a response. I’m beginning to feel ignored, it has been almost five weeks since my first note after all. Have I been too forward? Do you want to meet me in person instead? Aside from you giving me the silent treatment; I certainly still want to meet you, detective. It’s a shame that we haven’t run into each other yet, but it is for the best. I must admit that I am getting impatient though, you have been quite the temptation to put aside. Luckily for me, I have still been able to write. (Apologies about the somewhat gruesome method of delivery.) I do so enjoy autumn though, the leaves turning such beautiful hues. What’s your favorite season? Maybe I will see you soon if the mood and timing feels to be correct. Perhaps I might just write to you again. Farewell, and until next time,  _

_ G _

That was the last letter Tinsley received, yesterday. It came with the body of G’s 10th victim. Tinsley had yet to come up with a legitimate suspect, and to be frank, he was beginning to get frustrated. After his fifth day in a row working nonstop, Holly and Claire decided to intervene, forcing him to sleep.

They left food in his fridge, and he chugged some leftover coffee from however long ago. He decided his brain needed a rest, popping some aspirin in his mouth and grabbing a book.

The weather outside was still good enough for Tinsley to go on a walk, despite the sun starting to lower in the sky. Tinsley strolled down the street in his beige trench coat, a small copy of  _ The Picture of Dorian Grey  _ in one of the large pockets, along with his hands. It was still unbuttoned though, in case the fall weather decided to change and become hot again all of the sudden. He had noticed the region’s tendency to do that, and sometimes it was rather irritating.

He decided on a park bench under some trees as his final location, sitting down to read his book for some ‘non-work-related’ thinking. He’d read this copy what seemed like hundreds of times. He loved the way the pages were still pristine but well-loved. He had bought this book, as the first one to go on his shelf, when he got out of high school. He loved it, and it still holds a treasured place on his nightstand, if he ever needed a comforting read. It had also accumulated a faint smell of coffee, throughout the many times Tinsley had read or left it near his hot coffee.

He read undisturbed for almost ten minutes before a stranger came and sat next to him on the bench, on the other end. There still wasn’t a big space in between the two, about a foot and a half. Tinsley kept his eyes to his book, and it seems the stranger wanted to respect that. He wasn’t going to let some random passerby bother his private time. The stranger got out a pencil and began to draw the view in front of them, some buildings and trees. The drawing was starting to look whimsical, but quite realistic, through Tinsley’s reading. The stranger spoke up, Tinsley still keeping his eyes on his book.

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Grey. It’s quite a good read,” Tinsley said, continuing to diligently scan his beloved paragraphs.

“Oh, that’s nice,” the stranger said, closing his sketchbook and buttoning his coat, “Don’t you just love the autumn? It really is quite a breathtaking view.”

“Yeah, I suppose the colors are nice. Your drawing is quite good, I couldn’t help but take a peek.”

The stranger checked his watch, and he stood, an envelope slipping onto the bench, unnoticed by Tinsley for the moment. He started walking along the sidewalk. Tinsley rose his head, not being able to see the person in front of him now

“Thank you. But I must bid you goodbye, I have to go. Enjoy your evening, and your book, sir,” he said, turning his head just enough to give Tinsley a wink under the brim of his hat.

Tinsley was confused, shaking his head a couple of times, his brain insisting that it must have been at someone else, maybe the couple having a picnic in the park, when he noticed an envelope.

“Mister! You forgot an envelope!”

The stranger was too far away to hear, or he was ignoring Tinsley.  _ Well, that’s fine with me, maybe there are some drawings or something in it,  _ he thought, flipping the envelope to see if there was an address or some sort of name. Might as well before he rifled through a strangers’ things. 

Tinsley went into panic mode the second he read the front of the envelope, his brain suddenly racing at a hundred miles per hour. He marked the book with his ribbon, slipped the book and the envelope in a pocket, and quickly hopped onto the same sidewalk as the stranger. He was gone, no matter how far Tinsley ran to look. Simply disappeared. Tinsley decided to quickly return to his apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He let out a loud groan that turned to a yell, surprising Buddy, who was waiting on the counter for his nightly meal.  _ I find it funny that you can take care of an animal while working hard on a case but not yourself,  _ Holly had pointed out earlier. The point was that he had to take care of the animal, not so much himself. Buddy didn’t have a job or pay rent, Tinsley did. And the more work he did, then the cases he could solve, and the more cases he solved could result in bonuses or promotions.

Tinsley sat for a moment at a barstool, looking at the envelope like it had killed his cat. He took some deep breaths and sighed, letting his forehead thwack against the bar. He sat there in that position thinking, then he went to grab a letter envelope from his desk.

_ It was a letter from G. _

Tinsley contemplated taking it into Forensics for a moment, deciding that it was too risky, the stranger was likely wearing gloves, he could have just been the delivery person to the killer, and it did also have Tinsley’s fingerprints on it, which could be possibly incriminating to Tinsley. He decided to throw that idea out the window and picked up the envelope again, this time with a letter opener in the other hand.

With a quick thwip, the envelope was opened, and Tinsley dumped out the contents. There were two pictures and a short note, the envelope addressed to Detective Tinsley specifically this time.  _ Shit, now he knows my name. Not surprising, but not great if any singular cop or good citizen were to find this letter and turn it in. _

He rubbed his palms into his eyes, praying that this wasn’t gonna just be the same vague quippy shit as the last letters, especially since he had risked delivering this one ‘by hand’.

He decided to look at the photographs first. One of them had a shadowed figure, back turned to the camera, watching a sunset. A coat obscured the figure of the person, and they were a little far from the camera, so a positive ID was not possible. It had the little signature hourglass sketch on it, in the same gold ink. But the second photo was of  _ him. Tinsley.  _ It was him leaving the park a couple of weeks ago, coffee in hand.  _ Shit. I don’t know how I thought it couldn’t get worse, but here we are.  _ He groan-shouted again. Buddy decided that it was a good idea to swap spots with the evidence, whacking it off the bar and laying down right on the now empty spot.

“Buddy, what the hell am I gonna do? This is getting ridiculous. Do you have any clues for me? Or just the identity of someone with dark brown eyes who can draw well, owns a Polaroid camera, and kills people,” Tinsley sighed.

Buddy looked at him with a confused stare and just blinked. Tinsley reached up and started stroking the cat’s head, Buddy leaning into the touch. He was warm and soft. Tinsley loved the way that Buddy would listen to his rants, or sit with him for the day. His purrs were always a lovely comfort after a day of looking at gruesome crime scene photos and dead people. Not that Tinsley minded that kind of thing, it was his job after all.

“What am I saying, you’re right Buddy. I should go talk to Holly. She had some sort of warning a month ago, right? Let’s go figure out what the hell she was talking about, yeah? How did she know something was up almost a month before it happened. That’s not detective instinct, and I should know because I am one. So, like a good detective, let’s go scope out the scene and find some answers to what’s going on,” Tinsley said standing up and walking towards the door, “OH! Sorry Buddy, gotta put you on a lil leash. Safety reasons, ya know?”

After giving the cat a quick pat on the head, he went to his office and picked up Buddy’s leash from the coat rack. Buddy was a very special cat, in Tinsley’s opinion. Whoever raised him before his time in the streets apparently got him used to leashes and walks. And being picked up frequently. Maybe he was an outdoor cat owned by an indoor person. Tinsley saw his coat on a barstool and slipped it on, tucking the  _ stuff  _ that Buddy knocked over into his pocket. Tinsley scooped up the cat under his arm.

“Oof, you’re a chunky lil man, ya know that Buddy?”

The cat meowed defiantly. He was definitely not the chunkiest of cats that Tinsley had seen. His parent’s cat when he had moved out had gotten quite fat, being the only ‘child’ to spoil in the house anymore. He still called Buddy a chunky boy though, because the cat did have a little bit of kitty pudge. It was cute.

He quickly stepped down the stairs, cat in arms, and got to his silver car. He switched the cat into one arm to open the door and hop in, Buddy knew where to go from there. He hopped quickly into the passenger seat, feeling the energy that it was not going to be a good time to sit in Tinsley’s lap while they took a slow drive around town. No, Tinsley set a speedy course towards Holly’s house, the sun dipping lower and lower into the sky.

Buddy hopped up so that he could view what was outside the passenger seat window. They quickly passed by businesses, and houses, until Tinsley pulled to a stop in a cute small house’s driveway. 

He picked up Buddy and quickly knocked on the door, Holly answering in less than a minute.

“Oh, hello Tinsley! What brings you by today?”

“You. Is Claire around?” Tinsley asked.

“No, she has late shifts at the hospital lately. What do you need?”

“We need to talk, seriously. Are you free currently?”

Holly let him in and directed him to the sitting room. They situated themselves on two sitting chairs, and Holly said; “Okay, now what is it? You even brought Buddy here. What’s wrong?”

“What did you tell me a few months ago? About my case? Something about how this is a dangerous situation for me and the killer,” he started rapid-firing questions towards the older woman.

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there. What did he do?”

“Oh! So it’s a HE, isn’t it? You even KNOW this killer, Holly, and you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me? Even in private? I’m a detective, I can be discreet about research,” Tinsley responded, starting to get a little more than peeved about the whole situation.

“Tinsley, I promise I would have told you if I could. It’s not my life at stake though. What did he do?”

Tinsley sighed, handing over the photograph of the sunset. He supposed she could be trusted with that at the very least. The letter, as well as the other photograph, was definitely staying in his pocket. Buddy was giving her a glare though, so he supposed his decision was in the right. She began to look over the photograph when a slightly horrified expression took over her face.

“When did you receive this?”

“This evening. On a park bench. A man sat next to me and started drawing. A few minutes later, he left, giving me a wink and leaving a photograph behind in his place. Care to tell me why it matters? Or is that a secret too?”

A look of hurt flashed across Holly’s face for a moment, before she looked down and mumbled, “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I’ll answer your questions now, it’s only fair. Yes, the killer is a he, and I only know him by name and reputation. I have met with him a few times when I found out his identity. I can’t tell you, or more people will die, understand? And even if you did know, you can’t do anything about it.”

She continued staring at the ground, the disappointment and irritation clear on Tinsley’s face.

“If you want to back out of the case, I understand. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, the basics at the least. You can have some of the things that I didn’t destroy from my own research, if that makes you feel any better.”

Tinsley sighed again, pinching his nose with one hand, squeezing his eyes shut, “I won’t back out of the case. Y’all still need help, no matter how many people have been keeping secrets from me. This man needs to be stopped, Holly. I will be taking your ‘non destroyed’ research, however. Maybe that will help me make some connections here.”

“You’re getting into dangerous waters now. I didn’t think he’d ever try anything like this, but clearly, he’s taken a particular interest in you. I’m so sorry, Tinsley.”

Tinsley just stood up, cat in arms, and sadly whispered, “Goodbye Holly. I’ll see you later. Drop the things by my door, and knock four times.”

He shut the door behind him, walking straight out the door. He sighed in the car, slamming his head down onto the steering wheel, careful to avoid the horn. Buddy looked at him for a moment before turning his attention to his paw, which apparently had something on it.

The sun had completely gone by this point, and Tinsley was absolutely exhausted by the time he got back to his apartment. His 5-day all-nighter finally caught up with him, even though he had gotten some sleep last night. He supposed that part of it was the whole conversation with Holly. He decided to sleep on this whole situation, his brain refused to think about it right now, the new development in the whole thing throwing a wrench into his whole case. Anyone of the suspects could have known who the real killer was, anyone he went and talked to, anyone who made any sort of statement on the case. He knew that some of the people he had talked to were definitely not lying, they couldn't.

Tinsley put on some pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, deciding that it would be a grade-A quality idea to just fall over and sleep for now. Buddy chose to sit at the foot of his bed for now, avoiding Tinsley but making his somewhat comforting presence known to the human.

-

The sun peeked through the curtains, waking first the cat lying at Tinsley’s feet. The man himself wouldn’t get up until a few hours later when he finally decided to get up and out of bed. His brain had reset, getting rid of the wrench. He was ready to work again, but he couldn’t guarantee anything as far as his sanity and frustration levels went. He supposed the question now was ‘Who has that much sway, that even people with nothing to lose won’t speak up if they know him?’

Or something like that. Maybe they did want to keep their lives after all. Nothing too out of the ordinary, he supposed. This was going to take a lot of prying and a lot of work. He sighed aloud, putting on his pants and a currently unbuttoned collared shirt. He chose a white one with really thin brown stripes on it, they matched his hair he supposed. Not that anyone got close enough to notice, or was observant enough to realize.

Likely it would stay mostly unbuttoned for the day unless he got called in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t. It was almost 10 am, he noticed as he fed Buddy and grabbed a mug of coffee for himself. He stood up and got to his office.

Checking out where he was with his board, he studied some names, still partially bleary-eyed, before reading some different little newspaper clippings and pieces of paper he’d written notes to himself for. His eyes suddenly widened, his grip loosening enough to spill some still very hot coffee onto his foot.

“Shit,” he said, cursing as the liquid hit his barefoot, still looking at the board. One of the polaroids he’d gotten yesterday was missing. He either left it at Holly’s (very bad) or it could be in his coat pocket (not so bad). He forgot about the coffee momentarily, rushing to the pile of clothes he’d left on the floor from last night, rifling through his pocket to find the photograph.

He audibly sighed in relief, walking back towards his office. He adjusted the photograph in place, placing it in this week’s category with the killing of Mrs. Emily Church. But in its own separate category at the same time.

Tinsley stalked back to the kitchen, grabbing a rag towel to wipe up the coffee he had spilled. While he wiped up the mess on the floor he thought about how bad it would have been for that photo, or any of the letters, to get out to the press. That would mean something bad for him and his career, surely. This would be his secret to keep, maybe that would lead the killer to reveal themselves. No credit and decreasing press time. 

He checked his schedule and who he was going to have to call or interview. This latest murder, a maid who had just moved into town, only had two contacts in town, so he wouldn’t have much research to do about her. He was going to call her ex-employer's household and her landlord, to see if he could ask some questions, maybe finally tie it all together. But at this point, he doubted it. He couldn’t tell what was a lie anymore in this case. If Holly was scared of this guy, whoever he was, this was going to be difficult to put it bluntly.

He sipped at whatever was left of his coffee in his office, making his first call of the day to her landlord.

Three rings until a “Grover apartments, this is Eddie speaking.”

“This is Edward Grover? I’m detective Tinsley, looking to see if I can ask some in-person questions about one of his tenants,” Tinsley droned, this was one call of many, one victim among nearly a dozen. 

“Yeah, this is he. It was Emily right? Sad to see her go, such a kind soul. You can swing by at around six if you want. I’ll be in the lobby if you’re free.”

“Thank you sir, I will be there at 6. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

Click. And that was one down, one to go. Then he could go to city hall and do some research or something. Maybe try to sort through this whole mess, find some similarities in statements. 

He dialed the next number into the phone, waiting a little longer for someone to pick up, almost five rings.

“Goldsworth residence. This is the butler speaking,” a voice said from the other end of the line.

“Can you connect me to the Mr or Mrs of the house please?”

“Mister Goldsworth is busy right now, who am I speaking to?”

Tinsley almost slapped himself in the forehead, the repetition must be getting to him, “This is Detective Tinsley, I wanted to ask your boss some questions about a previous employee of his.”

“Let me look at his schedule quickly, I will be right back,” the man on the other line said, and with a tap, the phone was down on a surface.

-

The Mayor quickly walked up to Ricky’s office, tapping on the closed door.

“Sir. We have a code C.”

A voice sounded from within the office, “Apologies, I do have to take care of this. I will be right back to finalize your offer.”

Ricky opened the door, grabbed the Mayor's wrist, and dragged him a few rooms away, shutting the door.

“Well? Go on. I have clients to seal the deal with,” Ricky huffed.

“Detective Tinsley is on the line. He would like to question you about Miss Emily. I told him I was checking your schedule. What shall I tell him.”

Ricky’s face brightened at this news, quickly souring as he remembered his schedule, “Ugh, tell him I’m busy. I’ll call him when I have the chance, and take a number down. I gotta go finish up this meeting, do some bookkeeping, and take a few calls.”

Ricky stalked back off, going to finish his meeting with the woman he currently had on his business schedule.

The Mayor walked back towards the phone, picking it up.

“Detective? Are you still on the line?”

He was met with a brief yes from Tinsley.

“Mr. Goldsworth is quite busy, for the foreseeable future. If I may take your number down, he can call you as soon as he is available.”

There was a sigh from the other end of the line, then a reply, “Yes, the numbers are CA4-6687. Thank you for your time, sir.”

Seeing the woman walk out, with a smirk and one less briefcase than she came in with, The Mayor wrote the number down. Another caller rang the phone, the Mayor picking it up.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

He routed this call directly to Ricky’s office, hooking the phone back onto the wall. The butler then went back to dinner prep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Love y’all and thanks for tuning in, as usual!


	9. The Art Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky goes on a job with Fran and Banjo, but there are complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUUUUUDGE, this is late. You will get two chapters this week for your patience. But, I still apologize for this mistake I’ve made. I did end up having a very busy week and weekend, and some not pleasant things rose up. So, sorry for the delay, but on a positive note you’ll be getting two chapters.

**Chapter 9**

It was the 14th of October, and Mister Goldsworth still hadn’t called. It was starting to get either worrying or annoying, Tinsley thought when he tried to get any work done. For now, he was on another walk home from the park.

He noticed a strange black car parked on his street. It was shiny black, most likely expensive, and definitely not belonging to someone in his complex. Not even a ‘new neighbor’ type deal. 

He decided to ignore it, until a man a few inches shorter than him with silver hair and steely grey eyes walked up to him. 

“Hello. Detective Tinsley, I assume?”

His voice was familiar to Tinsley, strangely so. He felt like he had definitely had a conversation with this man.

“Uhhh, yeah? Who wants to know,” Tinsley questioned in return.

“Oh, apologies sir. I am the Goldsworth’s butler. You may remember speaking to me on the phone a few weeks ago,” Tinsley nodded as the Mayor continued, “Mister Goldsworth has been extremely busy these last few weeks, and off the property for the past few weeks, and will most likely be popping in and out for the weeks to come. He sends his deepest condolences, but some things have popped up in the family business that have been quite difficult to deal with. He does extend a personal invitation to his next event though, where he will definitely be at the house and free to talk. You are more than welcome to come in early, or stay late on that date.”

“That sounds great, but if he has any opening in his schedule at all, I don’t care where or when he calls. Thank you for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome sir, and thank you for your patience. Mister Goldsworth is not always the easiest to track down,” he said with a smile.

He walked to the black car, hopping into the drivers side and speeding away. Tinsley still stood there, confused by the strange interaction with a man who was apparently the Goldsworth butler guy that he spoke to on the phone.

He considered opening the envelope right there on the street, before deciding to just process for the moment, walking up the stairs to his floor and apartment.

Buddy winded around his legs when he walked through the door, happy to see him. Tinsley absent mindedly walked towards the coat rack in his office, hanging up the trench coat he was currently wearing. He did have a bit of a problem, he supposed.

He grabbed his letter opener, clarity coming to his mind. _Okay, so this is from that weird Goldsworth guy, because he’s still interested in talking about the case. He just has to put a pin in it for a minute, seeing as how he has ‘stuff’ to do, or whatever,_ Tinsley ran through the Mayor’s story in his mind.

There was a message on a white piece of paper, as well as a small red card.

The paper was the invitation itself, to an All Hallows’ Eve Masquerade party. _Welp, that is a half month away. To speak to a busy, probably very egotistical, rich guy. What is his deal?_ It had a dress code, a time, and a location, but not much else. This was probably some weird really old tradition or something.

The red card, however, read a much simpler message: _Personal Guest of R. G._

This was going to be a long half a month. Maybe he’d get another letter, more work to do or something. Tinsley rolled his eyes back and flopped onto the chair in his office. Yeah, a VERY long half month.

-

“Are we there yet,” Ricky chimed in from the back seat, with a small smirk on his face.

“For God’s sake, Ricky, you know the way there. We are NOT there yet. This is the fifth time you’ve asked in the last hour,” Fran sighed from the passenger seat.

Banjo sat tense in the driver's seat. They had taken Ricky’s car, despite his protests. Ricky argued that his car was faster, had better gas mileage, and was more recognizable if they were to run into Night-Night. He relinquished on the last point, knowing that he’d only actually driven to the boss twice. Ricky had probably made this journey countless times. 

It only made it more awkward for Banjo, however, when it was his turn to drive. Las Vegas was a long way away, after all. He was already somewhat fearful of the man in the back seat, but he knew that if he put a _single_ scratch or minor imperfection in this car, nothing good would come of it. It would probably be ruthless and unrelenting teasing at best. He didn’t want to think about the ‘worst’ right now. The thief was just glad to be on a very long stretch of highway for the duration of his turn. They’d only just gotten into the Nevada state limits.

Ricky was taking great pleasure in making Banjo’s life hell right now. He savored the discomfort and stress radiating from the man driving, it was oozing off of him in waves. Or it was more of a constant aura type deal, he wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, it would make Banjo _so_ easy to tease and put on edge. He did it out of love, of course. Fran was almost like his sister after all. The teasing brother was the role sent from the heavens when she introduced him to Banjo, who fully well knew of his business reputation from Night-Night.

It was funny anyways, looking at his discomforted reactions and sighs of relief. One of his favorites had been watching Banjo’s eyes go wide as dinner plates when he had told him about one of his bloodiest jobs. He of course, was not kidding around that time. His job was a cakewalk to him, but he could definitely see the disgust and hesitation from others in his line of work. He loved his job, though. Get paid bank to do what you love, and dispose of some assholes along the way. Best job on earth, in his opinion. 

“We’re about a block away,” Banjo bluntly said after 10 minutes of silence from both other parties in the car.

“From the hotel, the club, the bar, or any of Night’s other joints around here,” Ricky teased, full well knowing the route to each of his boss’ meeting spots.

“Ummm, you’re the only one who knows about our emergency meeting spot. The one with Night. I was told you are the only one who knows where it is,” Banjo bashfully mumbled.

“Oh, yeah. To the hotel it is then, McClintock!”

Fran started gushing about one of her favorite actresses when they passed a theatre, Ricky chiming in, “I know I like men, but I do agree, she is a real piece of art.”

Banjo pulled into the front of the hotel, nearly sighing in relief. The conversation between his two passengers has started to get a little weird, surprisingly only on his girlfriend’s side. Ricky had just listened, as Fran was mainly ranting about the attractive actresses she’d fallen in love with over the years.

Ricky took the keys from Banjo and hopped into the driver’s seat, stating, “I’m going to park the car. Can’t be too careful when you’re on a mission. I’m going to go stop by my apartment to pick up some things, and get ready. See you guys in, let’s say, two hours. Don’t do anything too crazy.”

He added a wink, throwing on his sunglasses before driving off. The weather was surprisingly still quite pleasant, so he rolled down his own window, slightly speeding on his way down the street. It was a little further away than the Hotel. Ricky flicked on the stereo, changing the channel from whatever talk show Fran was listening to a few hours ago. 

He settled for a channel with decently recent music, some older jazz thrown into the mix as well. He turned the corner, pulling just off to the side of the road. He’d be back later that night, of course, he just wanted to grab one of his wallets, of course. And a change of clothes. After all, they were attending an art exhibition later that evening. Fran and Banjo didn’t travel down here often, as Fran worked and communicated through phone, telegram, letter, or disposable and easily deniable methods. Banjo didn’t really ‘deal’ with anyone. He was a lone wolf type thief, going wherever there was work to be done. He was planning some home robberies after the auction until Fran was able to convince him to hop on this job with herself and Ricky.

Ricky, on the other hand, did own a place up here. It was quite helpful to his cause to have a house nearest to some of his highest paying clients, and his cousin (and his left hand man, a kind of stupid leader but a good friend to both Ricky and Night). They all somehow ‘planned’ all their hits in the spring, so he would just come up here for a few weeks in the spring, maybe a month tops, and just do his job. It didn’t hurt that his parents were already rich enough for him to afford a place here.

It was kept up by Night-Night, of course. When he wasn’t there, all they really had to do was keep it clean. He’d do grocery shopping and the like if he knew he was going to be here for a while. He should be checking for any new jobs while he’s here anyways. He could always just send Banjo and Fran home on a train, if there were any.

He flopped down on the couch, glad it wasn’t dusty like last time. A nine plus hour drive was never pleasant, even with three drivers. His back let out a few pops when he turned over, fiddling with his watch.

An hour or so of laying around and making calls later, Ricky was signed onto 5-7 more jobs and filled out his portable calendar that he always keeps around with him from city to city. He’d be here until the 28th at the very most. Depends on how quickly he could do them in succession without being too conspicuous. He needed to keep this batch under wraps. With that done, Ricky noticed the time and walked to his bedroom, plucking one of his reserve three pieces that he kept here off the rack. 

His closet was mostly in California, but he did have some suit jackets, a coat, and multiple pairs of slacks and shirts. He always brought ties along with him, that suited the events he was attending or the season. And of course he had pajamas too. He somehow just couldn’t sleep without them anymore, when he was alone at least.

Ricky turned the water to hot and rinsed off quickly, making sure that he would have time to dry and style his hair. He did, of course, but he always preferred to be safe when it came to his ‘getting ready’ time before jobs, parties, or even just business meetings.

He decided that this would definitely be a ‘black tie’ event, so he brought some extra accessories along with him, as well as any extra ties he wanted. He slipped on a black three piece with a single Albert pocket watch in his vest pocket. It was a gift from his mother, when he was still a rather young boy. A family antique, passed down from his great grandfather, to his grandfather, to his mother, to him. It had his family symbol, with a complex design etched around it, not really in the shape of anything. More for the beauty of the object than functionality. “Treasure it,” she had told him, “It’s now yours to keep.” He tied his bow tie in the mirror, taking a couple times to get it even.

Before putting on his jacket, he slipped on his shoulder holsters with his signature shiny silver pistols, each barrel slightly engraved with a very small rose design. He decided to finish the ensemble with a knife in his sock, his favorite of course. His favorite knife also happened to be his signature, with a dark wood handle and dark steel blade. There was a ring of gold accenting where the two pieces met, with his initials on it. The dark steel blade being edged with gold on the sharp side too, the blade itself sharp as ever. The wood had been finished but never polished, as per Ricky’s request when he was getting it sharpened and finished. It was truly a masterpiece to him, and it had remained his favorite since he had designed it.

He grabbed his car keys, satisfied that he was prepared sufficiently for the night ahead of him. He checked his glove compartment for a pair of white gloves and his ‘mark of zorro’ mask, as Fran had nicknamed it. It was just in case anything went wrong of course, but a good shot to the heart or head was generally a good sign that the job was done. He tucked the mask inside his suit jacket, and went to pick up his two friends.

Francesca hopped into the car, with a short haired brown wig and security uniform. She had made sure to contour her jaw and remove any other makeup from her face, and she didn’t look too far off from a young security guard. Banjo was dressed in darker clothing, and had a pack Ricky was sure contained the tools of the trade. This was Banjo’s world, he had to admit. He could shoot a dime flipped in the air, but when it came to anything robbery related, he was clueless. He was more ‘muscle’ for this operation. Someone Night trusted to be able to shoot, supervise, and assure that the plan was stuck to. Banjo had more of a… notoriously spontaneous approach. Ricky prayed that he didn’t go off plan tonight.

“Okay Banjo. I won’t pretend that I know jack shit about burglary, because I don’t. This isn’t the first time I’ve worked with you, but I still expect you to take this as seriously as the first mission the three of us ran. Stick to the plan. Now’s not the time to be a show off, there will be a crowd, albeit small. I don’t want tonight to end in a massacre. Night would have my head, as well as yours,” Ricky said to the man sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Banjo laughed, “And show off? Me? Says the man who has to be the most perfectionist hit man I’ve ever met. You could shoot a hole in a silver dollar if I flung it up ten feet.”

“Okay Banjo, he’s just stressed with your reputation. Let’s go through the checklist.”

Fran went through the items that should be in Banjo’s work bag, including rope, wall grips, a knife, tubes for the art, among some other random things.

They drove in a sort of awkward, but excited silence until Ricky had to drop off Banjo about a block from the museum, quickly telling Banjo “If you need to, drop the paintings on the roof or in the van at the service exit. Night has both of those spots covered. Good luck.”

Fran and Ricky drove up to the Gallery, Fran sneaking off to the back and getting in with her fake security pass that someone had nicked for her. Ricky, on the other hand, posed as a guest, sneaking into the unopened part of the gallery, behind a red velvet curtain that was to be opened. It was dark, but he could see the gleam of security badges. He decided to sneak off to the side for a moment, the party still too quiet for him to use his gun, even though the party was a solid 3 hallways away from this new collection being displayed.

He noticed Banjo making a signal in the skylight, he was crawling in the vents in two minutes. Fran suddenly whipped open the curtain, shouting.

“Guys! The boss wants some extra security around the speech for a minute. Apparently some troublemakers arrived, and the speech is going to be short anyways. He only wants two of you guys behind here right now!”

“Ugh, did that asshat change the security positioning again? Fine. Dominguez, you take Carter and Egret with you.”

The music dropped, as the speech just started. The guards stood in position as Fran said to. This was Ricky’s cue, as he heard the vent grate start to rattle, and the audience just start to applaud. He jumped around the corner with a slide, and started to touch a painting as if he were cutting it out, the guards noticing very quickly, shouting:

“Hey! You there! Stop!”

Gladly for the thief, the two security officers turned in time, and began chasing Ricky through the museum. He made it to the end of the hallway when Banjo hopped out of the grate. Now he’d just have to lead these bozos on a goose chase for a minute or two. How many paintings was Banjo supposed to steal again? 

He ran up the marble stairs as quietly, but quickly as he could. The second floor balcony would be the perfect place to let off his gunshots, diverting the attention away from Banjo’s part of the gallery. He made it all the way there, backing up against the rail where it overlooked the main hall. There was a crowd for sure, listening to a speech about how honored we are to host you or whatever bullshit. 

The guards caught up to him, and audience members had started to see him. Now he was glad for the mask, as he was expecting this area to be dark with an easy escape.

BANG! BANG! Ricky let off two shots, earning the full attention of the audience by this point. He heard some screams, and decided to let off a few more, just into the wall. He then hopped over the side of the rail, falling until he reached the second staircase, sliding down the rail with such speed that he almost fell off at the end.

And then the alarm went off. Ricky cursed Banjo, running to his hall instead of where Ricky’s exit route was headed. He ran into Banjo grappling with an officer, all but one of the works stolen.

“Uhhhh, hi R! Nice to see you here. So, I know you said not to show off or anything, but I asked Fran to send a guard back a minute before the gunshot so I could time myself… Some help would be appreciated.”

“You dumbass,” Ricky grumbled, running to the guard.

“Thief! Thief!”

He shouted, alerting the attention of the guards in the next hallway. Ricky shot him before he could continue. 

“Get your ass over there,” Ricky said, pointing to an alcove in the wall, the one where he had considered hiding. He took two of Banjo’s full sleeves and ran, making sure to get the attention of the guards.

Banjo sighed in relief, going to get the last artwork and sliding back through the vent when he was done. He hoped Ricky would be okay. And the guards. One thing that Banjo knew was that Ricky didn’t mind going over the allotted casualty limit as long as the job got done. Banjo did. Fran never heard it if she didn’t want to, and Night was always just happy that the job got done on time.

He heard a couple more shots and cringed. Ricky shouted in pain, and Banjo thought it was over for him as he crawled back to the roof, jumping to the next roof, then the next. He quickly crawled down a fire escape to the car where Fran was waiting. 

“Where’s Ricky?”

“Go! He had to use an… alternate escape route,” Banjo lied quickly, “He’ll meet us before 11.”

-

_FUck. Getting clipped in the shoulder was always a bitch. But twice in the same shoulder? Really?_ Ricky continued to run to the best of his ability, switching the two paining rolls he grabbed to his near lame hand, grabbing his gun in the other and quickly turning to get some shots back at them, no matter how accurate or inaccurate.

Click. Click. Click. He was out in one. He’d have to save the second one for later.

They’d heard the clicking though. They thought he was out of bullets. He started to sprint up the nearest staircase. They shot and shot at him, some waiting until they were on the second floor. One lightly grazed his neck, another went deeper grazing his thigh. He made it to a convenient railway for him. The grand staircase to the side of the main hall. He grabbed his second gun out, and aimed for arms and hands with guns. There was still a crowd that quickly dispersed from him when they heard the shots. He made it out the front door, still bleeding badly from the shoulder wounds he had. 

He kept on going to a fire escape two buildings away. He climbed up, and waited for the guards and police to pass his location. He started limping towards a law firm not too far away. Night wasn’t going to be very happy about this one. Not at all.

He walked into a warehouse, making it to the nearest lackey and stating “I need to speak to your boss, I’m-“

Ricky passed out. He doesn’t remember anything until he woke up in that same warehouse, in a different room. He had stitches in his thigh and shoulder, and a bandage around everything. His shirt was discarded and bloody on the floor next to the table he was laying on. So was his suit jacket and vest. He could see the gleam of his pocket watch in the moonlight. There was a gaping hole in his pants.

Man his head hurt, and his shoulder.

“Mister Goldsworth,” a taller and lanky girl with tanned skin walked up to him. She was definitely more well dressed than him, in pinstripe pants and a white shirt. Her hair was in a low bun.

“I have orders to give you this set of clothes. Night Night wants to see you. He already sent someone to collect Miss Norris and Mister McClintock. I have already taken your two paintings to him.”

Ricky was handed a pair of slacks and a white shirt. He tried his best to comb through his hair with his hands, and splash some water in his face. He slipped on the pants one handed, same with the shirt. He didn’t want to risk splitting his stitches yet. They would take until the party to heal mostly. There would definitely still be some injury, but no stitches or bandaging, which was perfect.

He followed Jane up the stairs to a dark door. _Night Night, ever the dramatic_ , Ricky thought.

His accomplices were already in the room, when Ricky took a seat. Night Night walked in a moment later.

“Okay. Now is your one minute time frame to point fingers. Who is at fault for this.”

“IT WAS BANJO he’s the one who got overconfident in his abilities and got me chased and shot.”

“IT WAS RICKY he went over the casualty limit and didn’t lead the guards on long enough of a goose chase.”

The two spoke over each other in almost unison. 

“Okay I’m already sick of this. Both of you shut up. Fran you’re free to go. You did your job.”

“Thank you Night Night. See you at the hotel Banjo,” Fran said sullenly and icily. She full well knew that it was Banjo that was at fault here. Gladly he had the track record to prove Ricky right. But you bet that she was still going to give him a piece of her mind when he got back to the room. He’d be in the doghouse for a little while for this one.

Fran shut the door, and Bergara went off; “Okay, so NEITHER of you dumbasses can tell me why a SIMPLE thieving operation went wrong. SURE, neither of you got caught, and my cops cleaned up your blood Ricky, but THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. You two are both the highest professional standard at what you do. And by that I mean Ricky. Banjo, you better make the case or apology of your LIFE if you want to work for me again. Or ANYONE in this area, for that matter. Ricky gets to start by telling me what ACTUALLY happened tonight.”

“Everything went to plan, except for a teeny detail that I had no idea about. Banjo asked Fran to send a guard back right after I made my distraction upstairs. Those were my first two of only three fatalities tonight. I heard the alarm go off. I ran away from my getaway route to check on Banjo. He was grappling with a guard, in a fight. I shot the third guard, that was the last fatality. I took two painting sleeves with paintings, and made sure the guards came after me so Banjo could finish his work and escape cleanly. I don’t know who I injured in my escape, but better a bullet wound than dead. I don’t think I hit any more than 2 guards. My aim was kind of off,” Ricky saltily explained, gesturing at his shoulder, “But I thank you for clearing the crime scene of my presence, thus clearing my involvement with the incident.”

The mob boss/lawyer was now glaring at the gangly man with a glare Ricky had only seen men or women that were now in the grave get. Banjo was either utterly fucked or something really bad.

“Banjo, make your case. Tell me why I should forgive you. You did put my best hitman nearly out of use. Ricky won’t be able to use his arm for almost a week. And we checked that little annoying planner he keeps. He has jobs these next few weeks. You’re lucky he’s a sharpshooter with both arms, and the beatings he has to do are after he won’t split his stitches.”

“First of all, I got you all the paintings, unharmed. No bloodstains, tears, or fingerprints. Each almost surgically removed and put in the case. That is a high professional standard in my career. It doesn’t get much better than what I deliver to you and your buddies around here. Secondly, you would regret harming or killing me if you needed more robbing or cat burglaries done. As far as I’m aware, I’m one of the cheapest prices for the best services. Third, it’s not my fault that Ricky got shot, it’s my fault he had to take an alternate route. But, despite that, I am very very sorry about Ricky’s arm and will pay for any medications he needs. And the last thing I can think of is that you want to keep Fran on your side as much as possible. She has proven how much you actually need her espionage type services. If you kill me, she’ll probably refuse jobs,” Banjo started to explain with a very shaky voice.

“Apologize. Now. And I’ll consider your case for the next few minutes while you apologize.”

“Ricky, I’m-“

The phone suddenly rang, and Night Night picked it up.

“OH THANK GOD! I was starting to get worried,” he began, gesturing for the two in his office to get the hell out or go to hell quicker than you wanted to.

He continued speaking after they shut the door, the heavy metal muffling it. Ricky was driven home in a separate car than Banjo, to his apartment.

He just drank a glass of water, and maybe four fingers of the strongest whiskey he had on hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed! I love reading feedback and constructive criticisms from you guys! It’s literally the highlight of my week, or even month sometimes. Thank you so much for tuning in again, see you Friday!


	10. Death & Decor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I can excuse murder and torture, but bad decor is where I draw the line’  
> -Ricky at some point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to hell everyone! Hope you enjoy, apologies that it’s a day late. I HAD IT DONE TOO! Just got caught up in a drawing that I’ve wanted to do for a while.

He sat on the rooftop, settling in for a little bit of a wait. Some councilman was the first job of the week and it was no easy job. He’d decided to get all of his research out of the way last week, when his ‘condition’ made it nearly impossible for him to move his arm. Not without excruciating pain or the threat of splitting stitches, at least. He was able to bend his fingers and wrist and elbow now. The muscles in his shoulder, however, refused to move beyond a certain point. 

The nurse had warned him about that, telling him that ‘moving that shoulder will only impede the healing process’ and that he ‘should practice caution in his exercise’. Or something like that. He wasn’t really listening beyond ‘limited range of motion’, ‘no infection’, and ‘stitches out before Halloween’. So he had been practicing being cautious with that arm, wanting to be able to dance the night away unsuspiciously at his party. He didn’t need the detective knowing either. That was going to be the big day, after all. His ‘reveal’ of sorts.

_ But how to shut up said detective? _ Tinsley didn’t seem like the type of man to be bribed or persuaded with violence. He supposed his family has enough sway in town for a ‘my word against yours’. The library was built by his grandfather, they made generous donations to many local causes every year. Ricky even went to elementary schools in the area to read. People believed he was clean as a whistle too.

_ Tinsley might be smart enough to believe that _ , Ricky thought diligently. Come to think of it, his family was kind of like a ‘pillar’ of the town. They started out as a coal family, his grandfather starting off in some rocky Utahn town, moving to the Californian coast to remotely run his business from an area of style and comfort. His mom, dad, and now him always made sure to pay the biggest check at any events.

It was always a great excuse when covering up the real family business. His father dealt with the mob (like his father before him), his mother sold secrets, and he, well, you know. Killed people for a living. But coal was always a perfect thing to say. Makes a lot of money anyways, enough to upkeep the charitable donations at least. And his father’s medical bills, not that those were an expense weighing on his conscience anymore. 

Just past seven, the man walked to the bench Ricky had a prime view of. It was under trees that had turned orange and a lovely shade of deep red, not quite brown, but not wine red either. The park was quite the pretty spot to sit and read.  _ Tinsley would love this place,  _ Ricky thought, almost on instinct. A nice quiet grove of sorts, perfect for after a stressful day. He braced himself for the chill of the metal against the side of the building. One-handed, he quietly slipped down the fire escape.

He tapped his helper on the shoulder. Not that he’d need much of one, he could be quite the convincing actor. But it was not his job to do that today.

“Okay kid, now’s your time to shine. You’ll get a 20 dollar tip from me if you do good. Night Night won’t even know.”

A blonde-haired boy ran over to the bench, putting on a face of distress and turning on the waterworks. Ricky stepped into the building he was scouting on, walking a couple of feet to a storage closet. There the plastic liner was, he thought, lying it down on the floor. There were also some trash bags and tape. So he had to package this one ‘to go’ for whoever Night was gonna send this one off to. He made sure his pistol was loaded, then sat and waited a few minutes.

Ricky had really had to think about accepting this job. Snitches were hard to kill and get away with in the first place, your only option is to make them just disappear. No stain on your name. But, this one couldn’t just take a trip to the bottom of the river with concrete shoes. There had to be a ‘message’ sent here, apparently.

He heard footsteps in the hall and muffled voices. 

“Is this your house?”

“I think so, thank you so much, sir,” the kid said with a sniffle, as Ricky stepped out of the closet. 

“I’m just glad to get you back to y-“ Ricky cut off his sentence with a good thwack to the back of the head with the butt of one of his pistols. 

The man started to fall backward. Ricky let him, dragging him back to the closet. One, two, and there was now a nearly dead person, lying on plastic sheets in the closet.

Ricky cleaned up the body too easily, this man was built like a skinny and short log. He might have either been in his late teens, or mid 20’s. You could never be sure in his opinion. Sure there was muscle, but still very easy to wrap and tape up. He made sure to save some of the blood on his hands though, dabbing at it with one of the two handkerchiefs in his pocket.  _ That looks reasonably spaced out for a cough _ , he thought.

The kid was leaning up against the wall, next to the exit. His face was now pretty much cleared up, and he looked dead serious as he asked:

“You gonna pay me or what?”

“Yes, superb job. A driver should come by to pick you and your ‘passenger’ up in about 5 minutes. If anyone asks about the gunshots, just act scared and point outside or somethin,” Ricky said unenthusiastically; handing the boy a 20.

The kid’s face lit up, stuffing the cash in his pocket. Ricky probably paid for the next year of candy or soda pop stops. Oh, to be young and able to do fun things again. Then again, Ricky also considered murder fun. And stringing along law enforcement.

His driver would be waiting for him at the next block, ready to take him to the next person. He needed to ‘meet’ a reporter next, and finish the day off with a kidnapping.

He pulled up to the bar at the very edge of town, next to the highway. Ricky took a deep breath before putting on his character. He stepped out of the car with some of Fran's darker eyeshadow smeared across one of his eyes, looking like a convincing enough black eye for someone who probably had never seen an injury in her life. She was a gossip reporter, after all, no murder scenes or anything but scandalous rumors about politicians and actors; or what to eat to look like the next Marilyn Monroe.

She stood relatively towards the end of the docks. He made sure to tuck his white handkerchief in, blood side down.

“Hello Mister A.. Glad to see you could make it tonight,” she politely began. 

He put on a shyer disposition playing up the act of the hurt awkward young storyteller, “Hello Miss. I’m quite the fan, and I’m so proud and astonished to be in your presence.”

He’d never bothered to learn her name, never any names. It was business. Unless he needed to do some tracking, then names were never necessary. Miss just sounded like something an overly respectful super fan would say anyways.

“Oh yes, always glad to meet with a fan. Especially if they apparently have gossip for me to hear. I do love being the first one on the scene. Where did you say you worked again boy?”

“Oh. I work at a film studio in California. It’s still small, you’ve probably not heard of it, but I’m working my way up. I have information about what an actor’s diet consists of to maintain their figure, among other trade secrets. I find that it would be quite an interesting article for you,” Ricky said.

“What’s your name. You seem like the perfect asset for my company if you’re looking for a career in anything journalism. But I must ask; why this magazine? It’s not generally perceived as something men would read, much less apply for a job directly writing the articles,” the woman said, wary of Ricky. He knew that her overwhelming lust for money and secrets would get the best of her eventually.

“My name is Steve, I’m just interested in the opportunity it might bring me,” he responded, coughing into his clean handkerchief.

“Are you well?”

“I’ve just had this cough since I was little. It’s fine. Doctors say it gets stronger in the fall though, so if I interrupt our conversation,” he began fake coughing again, holding the bloody handkerchief to his face, but not too close, bloody side to his face. 

“Oh my! Have you gotten it checked recently? You got a little something right there,” she said, gesturing to the corner of her mouth.

Ricky used a clean side of the handkerchief to dab away the blood that he had gotten on himself. He was now deeply breathing, bending over. 

“Can we sit down? It’s never gotten this bad, apologies Miss,” another round of hacking.

“Of course you poor man. I can see why you want a career in an office. The air is probably too harsh for you so close to a desert. Or, we technically are in one right now.”

“I sup-“ and a fake faint, swoon included for fun this time.

He lay on the ground as she started tapping him, and when he didn’t respond, screaming. She crouched down next to him, after a minute or so of frenzied panic, trying to tap him again. He got up slowly, lifting himself onto his elbow. He offered out a hand to the still panicking woman.

“Help me get up. I’m afraid I must get back to my car. I dearly apologize,” she offers a hand as he drops the act, “Oh wait, no I don't.”

He pulled down with as much force as he could wrangle that arm into having, losing the extra boost from his shoulder. He pulled a gun out of his holster, glad that she didn’t feel any weapons when she was tapping him.

Now standing above her, one foot slightly on her neck, he coldly smiled as he cleared his throat from the fake coughing.

“Okay, now, as I’m sure you’ve realized, you’re in biiiig trouble. Can I trust you to not scream?”

She rapidly nodded as he eased his foot off, “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of what happens if you don’t do the whole follow me thing. So do as you’re told if you wanna keep your life. Or your arms and legs.” 

Her mouth agape in horror, the reporter stood. She began walking in the direction Ricky nudged the gun. 

“You got a silver dollar? Just want to show you something before you think about running onto that highway there,” Ricky smirked.

“Yes, here you go sir,” she said shakily.

Ricky smiled as he took the coin and placed it on top of his thumb, in perfect flipping position. He still had his gun out, so it would be less cool of a trick, but he did also still have stitches.

One flip, one shot, and one retrieved coin later, his point was proven.

“See what I mean? Do as I say and you won’t end up like that coin. Also, no need for formality, this ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ stuff. Only people who actually respect me get to say that. Call me G, until you get your healthy dose of respect,” he said, retrieving some rope from the backseat.

“Hands,” he demanded.

Once they were in the back seat and on their way to the warehouse, Ricky slipped a bag over her head.

“Okay Catherine, do you know what you’ve done? Who you messed up with?” he paused before chuckling, “You probably have a list of those names, lemme make it simple for you. My boss is very angry about an article in this week’s edition. Since you are a writer and a publisher, we think you let this one slide on purpose. You did co-write the article, after all.”

“However you misunderstood that article, I’m sorry. My intention is never-“ she was cut off by Ricky again.

“Oh no, I’m just the employee, but I do agree that what you did is rather rude. Save it for when we get there. Savor your words, ya know?”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, stopping at a back entry. The sun had almost set, and Ricky thought of home again. Had Tinsley missed the Golden Hour killer? Did Fran not deliver the letter yet? This one wouldn’t come with a body sadly, but better something than nothing he supposed.

He dragged a whimpering Catherine, following Jane up to Night again. This time they were on the same floor as his office, but they walked towards a very heavy looking steel door, with what looked to be very expensive sound resistance materials.

“Ah, so you’ve brought her back. Right here,” Night said, gesturing Ricky towards a chair. He roughly placed her in the chair, cutting her ropes with his knife, only to replace them with handcuffs.

“You can take the bag off now,” Night stated, Ricky pulling off the bag.

-

This was what his next week and a half looked like, a few jobs a day with a day off or two sprinkled in. He would be back in the spring of course, and maybe once or twice for a couple of days to visit his cousin. 

He did wonder where Legs went though. It felt inappropriate to ask Night yet though. He did seem distraught and slightly panicked without his left-hand man. His right-hand man, of course, being his excessive personal arsenal, with many choices for him and Legs on every job and for every occasion. He knew Legs wanted to make Night his right-hand man, and he already was in the business aspect. 

He thought about what the tall lawyer was up to, as Night continued to panic, and he hadn’t been around the whole time Ricky was there. Which was a little more than two weeks. Night was also refusing to go on jobs and looking more stressed by the day. The only time he was dressed was when he had to go to work or work problems out.

  
  


-

He departed from the train station, having had to ride the train all day to San Francisco. Which was still a little ways away from his home. The Mayor was there to pick him up at the station, Ricky not wanting to pay a taxi driver for all those miles. He saw the Mayor leaning up against the hood of the Bentley, waiting for Ricky to exit the station with his small suitcase.

Ricky popped on his sunglasses and got into the passenger seat, his bag getting placed by his feet instead of in the trunk or backseat. The Mayor got into the car and began to drive away from the station. They did have a little way north to go, nearly an hour or so.

Ricky turned on the radio, the station that he loved turning on to a new Frank Sinatra song. They drove, Ricky humming and singing along to the radio. The mayor joined in when a harmony was needed, and he knew the song of course. He wasn’t too ‘current’ in the music world. He just knew what Ricky played at parties, that were new but sophisticated enough for his family standard.

“How has party preparation gone?”

“Good, the caterers you called, they called back. I talked to them about the menu you wanted to be served. The band is hired out, including a singer this time, and I just have to set up the decor from the attic. But, on a good note, the home is already mostly decorated. It’s just the ballroom and the surrounding parlors that I have struggled with. Your diagrams weren’t that good of those rooms, were they rushed?”

“I ran out of ink, so I had to be sparing. But don’t worry, I did order more of those ink cartridges and a couple pots for my pen. I’m glad you were able to finish most of the house. Does that mean rooms prepared for guests?”

“Yes, and your cousin’s special request has been fulfilled,” the Mayor kindly responded.

“Oh, his guest won’t be coming anymore to my knowledge.”

“Disappointing, I do love the company of that man. He’s odd, but in an endearing way.”

“Write that on his grave, Mayor. I don’t know how Night, my cousin with the ‘sophisticated taste’ even got to know a man like him.”

“The detective accepted your invitation a couple of days ago. He seemed frustrated that you didn’t call him while you were away. I made the necessary adjustments to your schedule. I still don’t see the point in changing the plan if he’s coming or not.”

“You will understand, in time. Has my tailor delivered the looks of the year yet? Fran seemed excited when I showed her my final sketches,” Ricky excitedly said.

“Yes, all three of the formal outfits have been delivered and paid for. Yours looks exquisite, you did a good job this year, sir. You’ll get to help me put up all the final decor still, to tie the whole ‘haunted’ look you do. I still have no idea how you do it, the whole lighting thing with the drapes. You do know how to throw a party like it's the beginning one of those horror books you love so much. I did pull them off the shelf for you, by the way,” the Mayor explained, pulling onto Main Street. 

“Can we carve pumpkins this year? I will definitely not be putting any out on my porch, but I think they would illuminate the kitchen window or my personal balcony quite well,” Ricky asked.

“I will pick up pumpkins after I get your stitches out. We will do pumpkin carving on Saturday the 29th after we get all the decor done,” the Mayor explained the weekend plan, hearing Ricky pause, “Today is Thursday the 27th, in case you were going to ask.”

They quickly pulled up to the Manor, discussing what to do with the overall aesthetic of the house for the night of the masquerade. The Mayor had already gotten up the main decor, the deep red drapes, and polishing the white marble floor. He did touch-ups on the black wallpaper, patterned in the ballroom. And shined all the gold accenting lights and tables. The dark wood tops also shined. He got out all the candle boxes and polished the spare candelabras. It looked like a cleaned, darker version of the Goldsworth Estate. All Ricky needed to do was add all of the lighting and change out some of the throw pillows in the parlors. Nobody used those unless someone fainted anyway, the ballroom, ballroom porch, and the gardens were always the star of the show.

He leaned up against the kitchen countertop, letting the Mayor sit on the counter facing his back. He had gloves on, scissors, a bandage, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He cut each individual pull of the thread with precision and care, pulling them out one by one.

“These are gonna leave some nasty scars for sure, have you been putting ointment on either of these?”

“No, haven’t felt the need. Nobody sees my shoulders anyways. It hurt too much to do it myself, too much bending and directly touching the wound.”

The Mayor sighed as he slipped some ointment on Ricky’s shoulders, feeling Ricky tense up at the sudden pressure to the still tender area. He could move his arm in sufficient motion for now, however, and that was more important than anything right now, to Ricky. The mayor slipped a small bandage on both places, grabbing the car keys and swiping all his materials into the trash, minus the rubbing alcohol and the small scissors.

“I’ll be right back. You can start setting up lighting, or go see the mannequins I set up upstairs.”

Ricky nearly sprinted up the stairs in anticipation, stopping dead in his tracks the second he got to his office.

“Oh, this is perfect,” he chuckled darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, I love reading your feedback. Have a great week, and make sure to tune in for the next one!


	11. All that Glitters Red and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Got any black,” Tinsley asked, forking over a dollar to Anne, inspecting the little case of masks she had brought out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Please enjoy this very long chapter!

Tinsley awoke with a groan and the flopping of two feet onto the floor. The light was already streaming through the curtains this Halloween. He checked the clock on his side table, it was already three in the afternoon and he had to be ready by what, 6? He could’ve slept for two whole more hours, damnit! Nevertheless, he got out of bed as Buddy hopped up from the covers himself. Buddy liked to watch him sleep now.

This asshole serial killer, Tinsley thought to himself for what may have been the hundredth time that month. He hadn’t killed in what would be a month today, but in between, he had dropped by two envelopes. The first, he had gotten a day after the maid was killed. The latest one was on his office door a week or so ago, just having a letter excusing the lack of any murder or activity in his absence. What the hell was he playing at anyways?

Buddy was nibbling at the food Tinsley had dumped into his bowl as Tinsley thought, methodically pacing the rooms in the apartment. He eventually decided to make his way back to his office, sighing and flopping down. He looked at the pin again. Yep, it was at 6 with a formal dress code. Tinsley thought he would just slip on a collared shirt and clean pants. Maybe a coat if it’s chilly. He studied the words on the invite a little bit closer, and it was time to go to the fabric store!

The dipshit had planned a masquerade. _Why couldn’t he be a normal rich snob and plan for a ball or trick or treating? Does he want to make my life hell,_ Tinsley thought. A social event was already going to put off his mood. But a party planned by what was basically the popular family in town? This was going to be a whole problem. Maybe with enough alcohol and coffee after he’d be able to get over it.

He pulled up to the store and then decided to ask the clerk since he had no idea how to sew. It was the girl from the precinct, that Anne girl.

“Oh hi Tinsley! Didn’t expect to see you here, what can I help you with?”

“Hi, uh, Anne, was it? I got invited to this party tonight, but I need a mask. I don’t know where to get one, or where to start really, but-“

“Oh! All you had to say was that you’re going to the Goldsworths! I’m headed there myself tonight, to chat up that bachelor Richard. He’s rich, and nice, and pretty. Anyways, I always sew some simple masks, just fabric, and a few beads really, but they’re a dollar each.”

“Got any black,” Tinsley asked, forking over a dollar to Anne, inspecting the little case of masks she had brought out. Thankfully, there was a plain black one left. It covered around his eyes, and that was all he needed it to cover.

“Thank you! Have a great day sir,” Anne jovially waved back.

Tinsley started the drive back to his house at four, giving him an hour to get ready if he wanted to be there a little early to beat the crowd to his ‘suspect’.

He decided to take a shower, then borrow his next door neighbor’s hair dryer. He didn’t want to seem like he was a complete mess in public, after all. After all was said and done, he was clean enough to go to an event that he really didn’t care about. Claire would probably be there, but that entailed Holly being there. It was still a little rocky in their friend group, as Tinsley still refused to let any lies she had told go. It was hard to forgive someone who had given you a false basis of the case, stunting months of progress.

He decided to go tieless, and it was too late to go back as he locked his car doors and drove away towards the manor. He didn’t know where it was. He had his pass, so he did have an address. But then again, a manor isn’t the best place to just scrutinize the streets you’re on for clues. He pulled a turn with a loud sigh, realizing he would have to go ask or go with Claire and Holly.

He pulled into their driveway, taking a deep breath and equalizing his face, before walking up and knocking on their door. A ‘wait a second’ chimed in from the inside.He stood at the door, until a face poked through a crack in the door, fully opening it when Tinsley was the one at the door.

Claire was dressed in a lovely evening gown. The dark grey Halter top had additional pieces of fabric stretching to her fingers, covered in feathers. If he had to guess, by the jewelry dangling from her ears, she was some sort of dove. The makeup she wore was also very simplistic. Her hair was done up into a braided style, to mimic the rounder head and neck shape of the bird itself, cascading down her back.

“Hey, can you guys show me to the Goldsworths? I’ll follow your car.”

“Yes, of course, you can wait in the living room if you want, but you can always wait in your car as well if you’re still a little uncomfortable around Holly. She is still very sorry, by the way.”

“I think I’ll take up that car offer. You look lovely by the way.”

-

The door was shut on Tinsley after a couple ‘thank you’s’ and a quick ‘see you in a few.’ Now it was time for Claire to panic for a minute. 

“HOlly?!”

“Yes dear,” Holly said, walking into the living room with two masks, checking her eyeliner on the way to Claire.

“Tinsley is going to the party and I know that neither of us minds that at all but first of all Ricky is going to be there and secondly, HAVE YOU SEEN THE WAY TINSLEY IS DRESSED,” she whisper-shouted very quickly.

“No, I’m sure he’ll be fine though. I bet he’s only going to question someone or follow a lead. He didn’t seem necessarily excited about going to ANY social events while he’s here, much less. He’ll be in and out, no need to get overexcited,” Holly comforted. 

They got into the car, Holly not knowing the extent of it. She and Claire had decided to go as a mourning dove and a red-tailed hawk, respectively. Their masks and dresses were both mainly handcrafted, made from their closets and costume elements. Simple, yet elegant. They thought that a theme would be fun for this year.

They pulled out of their driveway as Tinsley’s car followed them to the Manor. They parked on the street, and as the three walked up to the door, masks were applied. Holly also got a good look at Tinsley’s ‘costume’. _He better be in and out, for his own sake._

-

A doorman opened the door for Holly and Claire, stopping Tinsley.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Showing up to your shift late, in the wrong clothes, to our most generous clients’ most important event of the year? Are you even joking with me? You’re lucky I’ve come prepared for your arrogant blunder,” the doorman sighed, dragging a protesting Tinsley by the arm up the stairs and down a hallway, stopping at a door.

“Okay, now that we are in private, you are Mister Tinsley right?”

“Uhhhh, yeah? How’d you even know? ‘Lotta tall white fellas in this town,” Tinsley stuttered.

“Follow me, your host has a gift for you. He anticipated your lazy attempt at a ‘costume’ and had something prepared for you. Are you aware that you own quite the reputation in this town amongst higher society?” The doorman asked politely.

“No, I was not aware. I don’t give a damn either,” was Tinsley’s curt reply. He was here to solve crime, not dance for the rich and the press.

He was led into a parlor room of sorts. It wasn’t quite a bedroom, but it didn’t feel like a parlor either. 

“I’ll take him from here, get back to the door,” a man called from inside the room.

The Mayor pushed his simple yet dignified white mask onto his forehead. A protruding lower portion covered his eye partially, however. Tinsley noticed his crisply pressed suit and white gloves, like the man who was at the door. He guessed it was a staff thing.

“Mister Tinsley, if you’ll please take a step or two into the room; and look at the mannequin to your left. He stepped into the room, and the Mayor briskly walked by and shut the door to the room, locking it with a key.

Tinsley laid eyes upon the most beautiful thing he’d seen recently. It was a full 1700’s Royal Navy uniform, complete with every shining gold button and trim. The deep blue of the coat, slightly faded, made it seem like the coat was plucked out of time, despite being new. The whites of the uniform were still quite clean as well, the shoes were shined, but something was missing.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a hat?”

“Yes sir, and a mask,” the Mayor said, handing Tinsley a hatbox.

Tinsley excitedly opened the box like a child on Christmas, now sitting down in a chair next to the mannequin, first seeing the navy mask, with navy ribbons to tie it and curling gold designs on it. Below that, a powdered wig that he was careful to remove and set on the top of the mannequin. A tricorn hat, the same shade of gold, and trim applied. He wasn’t quite sure about the trim being historically accurate, but this was going to be the closest he’d ever see without a time machine.

Beneath the hat, was a note; _‘Find me. -RG’_. From his lovely host, for sure.

“Well? Aren’t you going to get changed? Or are you still ogling the buttons? I do have other jobs to do, you know. Can’t spend all night helping you into a wig,” he said, holding up a few bobby pins.

“Of course,” Tinsley said, stepping into the powder room, “Is there somewhere I can put my clothes?”

“The basket under the sink, but you can change in here. I used to be a tailor, so unless you’re not wearing undergarments, there should be no issue here.”

Tinsley bashfully walked back to the mannequin and maneuvered himself out of everything excluding his underwear, including his socks, which were black. Apparently, Goldsworth had even bought him some socks. The guy thought of everything.

The Mayor helped him into the undershirt, then the pants, vest, and to top it all off the coat.

“Ready for the wig,” the Mayor asked, Tinsley nodding, “We will have to slick all that hair back, however.”

A minute of semi painful combing and hair gel later, the wig was flipped onto Tinsley’s head, being pinned down. The Mayor washed his hands in the powder room, leaving Tinsley to tie his mask on, which he did without messing up the hair. He also quickly slipped his stockings and shoes on, making sure to tuck the pants back over the white stockings. The outfit fit terribly well for a man of his height and body type. The mayor must have analyzed him with his ‘tailor skills’ or something. The shoe size was only a half size too big, but feet were hard to guess. The Mayor emerged again, putting the hat on with another two pins.

“You’re ready to dance the night away, Detective. And speak to my Master, although he has asked me to not reveal his identity. Enjoy yourself, it’s only ten minutes until the party officially starts. You did arrive very early, after all,” the Mayor spoke, brushing off Tinsley’s shoulders and arms quickly, making sure that any type of dust was off. Not that there would be any, of course.

Tinsley left, following the Mayor back to the main entryway. People were still flowing in, a parade of colors and masks. It was easy to slip in next to a tan girl dressed as a demon; and a man dressed in black, a cape occupying his shoulders, the inside a deep sparkling blue. His mask was silver, matching the embellishments to his almost royal like attire, including the crown settled on his hair.

They were quickly shown into the ballroom, where banquet tables were lining two sides, and a grand staircase leading up to an area where people were talking and watching the dancers. The entire room was lit only by candles and two chandelier light fixtures. The marble floors gleamed, the red curtains and black wallpaper illuminated just enough. It was eerie, but magical, as the sun had already just finished setting, the night sky fading to an inky blue outside the windows. 

He walked over to the food, not wanting to talk to anyone or dance. He deeply inhaled the smells of cheese, roasted meats, and many pastries. Chocolate and spiced caramel wafted from a few feet away. He filled a small plate with some sweets and chose to enjoy some fresh bread with the gooey cheese and honey glazed ham. He snuck up the staircase and leaned against the railing of the second ‘floor’, enjoying his plate. A waiter, dressed in the same attire as the Mayor but with a black mask, offered him a flute of champagne.

He lazily accepted it, resting it on a flat piece of the banister. The dancers were all quite talented, he noticed. None of the swaying or jumping around meaninglessly, they were actually waltzing, one pair standing out from the crowd entirely. The man was dressed in a wine-red coat and black pants, his own brown tricorn adorning his head. The woman wore a cape that just grazed the floor, covered in leaves that made her back look like a whole forest in autumn. She wore a black dress and mask.

He continued to watch them step and twirl around the dance floor, both of them showing considerable skill, possibly dancers by trade. Tinsley continued to eat his food, careful about his white vest and well, everything else. The bubbly champagne was quite sweet in his opinion, so he waited until he was done with his whole plate and downed the glass in two gulps. He walked back down the stairs as the orchestra stopped playing. Some of the dancers stepped off the floor, and some stepped into their places. Tinsley dropped his dishes with another waiter, walking along the edges of the ballroom, stopping to be in the crowd just on the edge of the dancers.

Unfortunately, that entailed being near a group of gossipers. He decided to tune into their conversation anyways, noticing that Anne was in the group. _What could Anne possibly have to gossip about anyways?_

“Did you guys see him yet? He was dancing a few minutes ago,” a girl dressed in pink chimed.

“No, I haven’t managed to spot him because of all these blasted masks! Now I might have to dance with every guy here to find him,” another sighed in response.

She was met with nods and ‘yeah’s’ from everyone in the group. Apparently, whoever the hell they wanted to dance with was in high demand this evening. 

They continued talking about this mystery man for a few minutes when Tinsley spotted the man from the dance floor heading this way. He only then caught the extreme detail in the man’s costume. He was clearly a pirate. He left the white billowy shirt unbuttoned completely, exposing a stripe of bare tan skin from his neck to the black pants where it was tucked. Plain dress shoes were abandoned for the fitted black boots making their way up his calves, flowy black pants tucked into them. His red coat was adorned with gold buttons and a black leather belt, fastened around his waist, closing off some of his exposed skin and the waistline of his pants. A black tricorn hat with a decorative silver pin lay atop shining ebony curls, dark eyes hiding behind a red mask lined with gold.

He was a looker, that was for sure, with a gleaming smile and strong jawline. Tinsley took another peek at the man’s somewhat exposed chest, noting his slight muscular build, enough to be noticeable but not enough to be pronounced.

The pink one squeaked, turning Tinsley’s stare away from the man. He flushed a little bit, glad he wasn’t caught staring.

“It's him! He’s coming this way, girls stop talking!”

The group started to converse blandly about how the room looked or their dresses, when the man stopped in front of a girl dressed as a red rose, her skirt billowing out around her in a petal-like formation. She tapped her fan three times behind her back, and the other's eyes started looking around the room.

“Your name is May Evenstan, right? That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing,” he said in a silky voice.

“Yes, sir. I quite like your boots,” she responded, clearly very pleased.

“Thank you, May. Will you do me the pleasure of being my partner in this next dance?”

She nodded as he fell into place next to her. This dance of course had to finish, to Tinsley’s dismay. The stranger’s eyes flicked up to Tinsley for a moment, giving him a wink that went unnoticed by the group. The rest of the girls were making a scramble to find a dance partner. Anne bumped into him on her way to find a partner.

“Oh, sorry Anne,” he said, trying to keep her from falling.

“Tinsley? Is that you?”

The shock in her voice was very obvious, he guessed that going from a mask that cost a dollar and a bland outfit to this was quite the shock to anyone that knew him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Tinsley said.

“Oh! Well, you look… nice. Be my dance partner? Thank you,” she chittered, grabbing his wrist and half dragging him towards the dance floor.

“Anne, you don’t want to do this, two left feet is an understatement about my dance skills,” he protested.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she huffed. They got into place and Tinsley prepared for the worst.

He attempted to just follow what he saw around him, Anne somehow already knowing the dance. He stepped on her foot a few times before the first partner switch. He panicked as he twirled off Anne for some random girl.

Five minutes of torture and saying the word ‘sorry’ more times than should be humanly possible, he booked it to the drinks table. A server politely began, “Sir, the adult beverages are to your right. Anything without alcohol in it is to your left. The black ink dots indicate how strong each one is. Nothing here is over a three out of five.”

He poured himself a glass of what smelled like whiskey spiked cider and stepped off into the crowd again, choosing to watch the pirate dance from the second floor.

He noticed the pirate talking to a group now, as they made their way to the drinks table. They were out of his sight for a moment until they resurfaced almost right next to him, only about ten feet away. The pirate’s back was turned to him, but he could still see at least the side profile of the rest of the group.

There was the man he stood next to in line, his intricate silver crown gleaming in the candlelight. Tinsley noticed that the pattern resembled flames. The woman next to him was dressed in a black, floor length dress, that quite resembled the way the ancient Greeks dressed. Wings adorned her back. There was a sheath around her waist too, carrying what he hoped was a fake sword. A wreath of poppies adorned her head around a ponytail, her mask a matching red.

Two foxes were the last in their group, the man dressed as a white fox, the female dressed as the average fox, a faux fur scarf decorating both of their necks, replicating a chain of fox tails.

They stood and spoke, enjoying their drinks. The fox couple was the first to return to dancing and talking to others, then the other woman. It was just the pirate and the man in black. Tinsley decided that he should talk to the pirate, their almost matching costumes were almost too much of a coincidence for him to ignore at this point. It was probably the Goldsworth guy or someone who knew who he was.

He walked up to the man but hesitated to tap him on the shoulder. His friend looked up at Tinsley and stared, the look of amusement not leaving his face.

“So you must be the detective, huh?”

“What?”

The pirate looked around himself for a minute before turning around and noticing Tinsley fully. He looked the detective up and down quickly, putting a sly smile on his face.

“Detective Tinsley, it’s a pleasure to see you here. As my friend here has so eloquently revealed, I am your host. Did you like the costume I had prepared for you? Apparently, it was needed.”

Tinsley slid into an uninterested look, “Yes, the costume is quite well designed, but I don’t appreciate you making me look around for you, Goldsworth. You are technically still a suspect in the murder of one of your staff. I could have tracked you down and arrested you, taken you in for an official questioning.”

“Oh, there is no fun with you is there? Just trying to be polite of course, not everyone knows who I am yet,” his host playfully responded, “And call me Ricky. Mister Goldsworth reminds me of work, of which this is not.”

His friend chimed in, “It is a party, Detective. It’s supposed to be fun!”

“This is my cousin, everyone calls him Night.”

“Hello. When can we do your questioning sir,” Tinsley asked, still more set on asking the questions and leaving.

Ricky snapped, gesturing a waiter over, “Please take our guest to the fountain in the rose gardens. I’ll see you in ten minutes, Tinsley.”

Ricky resumed conversation with his cousin as Tinsley was led back down the stairs. He followed the waiter outside to what he guessed was the rose garden, an area surrounded by tall bushes and rose trellises with blooming red roses on them. There were also multiple colors of plain bush roses, surrounding a stone fountain spouting water through the two layers. He sat on the edge of the fountain and checked his wallet for a penny. He did have one, gladly, so he flipped it into the fountain. A habit he’d gained as a child whenever he could have a coin to spare, he used to wish on them before flipping a coin in. Sometimes he’d wish for more food, or for the war to end. Sometimes he’d wish for a blue tie for his birthday. But here he was, 30 years old, still flipping a coin in a fountain when he saw one.

He decided to use his car key to help him pick a white rose, tucking it into his hat, where a feather would go. Moments later, he heard footsteps approaching the garden.

“Now, detective, I’m here for my questioning,” Ricky dramatically walked into the garden, arms extended to his sides. He gave a little bow when he was in Tinsley’s view.

Tinsley rolled his eyes and pulled out a little notepad and pencil from his waistband. The only downside of this costume was the lack of a pocket that could hold anything but a medium wallet or key ring. Ricky sat down a foot away from Tinsley, swinging one ankle to rest on his other knee.

“Ask away, Holmes,” Ricky giggled to himself. 

“Very funny, now let's get started. What is your full name?”

The questioning went by in a blur, Ricky knew almost nothing about Mary. She was only a brief employee after all. They sat in silence for a minute or so after the last question was answered.

“So, you like this town so far, Detective?”

“Like any other. It’s hot here though,” Tinsley answered briefly.

They slipped back into silence for a few moments, before curiosity got the better of Tinsley.

“Your group, the one you were talking to earlier, had one costume that I didn’t understand. There were the foxes, you, and who was your cousin and his friend supposed to be?”

“Night? Yeah, he’s pretty dramatic. He decided to go as Hades, but his partner could not attend tonight so I guess it’s not as obvious who he is anymore. He tried to get Mia to go as a ‘damned soul’ but she didn’t like that idea. She decided to go as something else from hell, or whatever the Greeks called it. She went as a female version of their peaceful death.”

“That’s interesting. The Japanese considered foxes to be mystical as well. Any reason why you decided to stray away from the theme?”

Ricky diverted the question, not caring to answer it at the moment, “I noticed you on the dance floor. You’re terrible. I can show you if you want. How to dance. It’ll be a helpful skill to know in this town.”

“I have two left feet, I think I’ll stay away from dancing. Why do you care anyways? I’m just a detective that accused you of murder in front of your cousin earlier tonight,” Tinsley said, looking at the night sky.

“Wouldn’t want the most honest man in town to fail at completing his job. This town does need a guy like you right now. Some new blood, if you will. You do hear things on the dance floor, by the way. Also helps with your footing during fights,” Ricky winked at Tinsley for the second time that night.

Now that Tinsley was staring right back at Ricky, he noticed something familiar in his mischievous eyes. He unconsciously reached up to the ribbons on the back of Ricky’s head. He touched the ribbons before Ricky grabbed his forearms, pulling them back around to Tinsley’s sides.

“Woah there, this is a masquerade pal. Wouldn’t want any unsuspecting wanderer to see you taking this off, would ya,” Ricky chuckled smoothly, gesturing towards his mask.

“No,” Tinsley blushed, glad that the mask covered part of his cheeks.

“Stand with me,” Ricky rose from his spot on the fountain, moving to a larger patch of concrete in the garden. He left his coat on the side of the fountain, his white shirt billowing a little in the slight breeze. The music was still quite audible despite the bushes blocking any view of the manor.

Tinsley rose and followed Ricky, standing square to him. Ricky grabbed Tinsley’s hands and placed one just below his shoulder blade and took the other.

“Hear the music? Listen to the beat. Move your left foot forward, right foot out, then move your left to your right.”

Tinsley did the basic motions to the sound of the orchestra playing a more classical waltz, looking at his feet. They moved in a straight line until Ricky noticed them approaching the bush.

“Now try going back with your right, out with the left, and move right to left.”

Tinsley did that a couple of times until the pair were back where they started, Ricky praising Tinsley, “Superb job detective, that was a box step. We only need to get through rotation and twirling now. When you move your foot out, turn it a quarter turn, so you’ll face another wall.”

Ricky demonstrated with no partner, Tinsley watching his boots intently, watching every turn so that he wouldn’t mess it up.

He placed Tinsley’s hands again, and reminded him, “Treat me like a delicate lady, directing me like the water does a boat. Do not force your movements, let them be smooth.”

They began at Tinsley’s lead, Tinsley staring intensely at his own feet, mimicking Ricky’s movements to the best of his ability. The waltz was still choppy, Tinsley even stepping on Ricky’s foot.

“Sorry,” he exclaimed, letting go and stepping back from the man across from him.

“It’s okay, stepping on someone’s foot is a part of the learning process. It didn’t even hurt. Try looking at me this time. Looking at your feet like an angry god will do you no good on the dance floor. Focusing on your partner can also make the movement more fluid since you’re not focusing on your exact following of steps. Don’t stop if you step on my feet a couple times, just pause if you need to get back on the pulse of the music,” Ricky explained, a patient teacher.

They began again, Tinsley placing his own hands this time, looking at Ricky’s face. He stared into the other’s eyes, feeling the calm and interest in them. He began the steps this time, making it through a rotation without stepping on foot. Halfway through the second, he chimed, “Sorry!”

He looked at his own feet as a defense after that, making sure to get it right, but Ricky caught him before they could take another step, “Tsk tsk, look at me Detective. Let me see,” he paused, “If you can make it through three rotations, you can take my mask off before we learn twirling.”

Tinsley looked back up at his partner, starting over to his own counting of _1,2,3,1,2,3_ under his breath. He stopped in the middle of the second turn, keeping the pace of the dance. He made it to four rotations before Tinsley twirled Ricky, not even needing the reminder. He had danced exactly once in his youth, at a friend’s wedding. The box stepping was practically new to him, he’d only ever been able to twirl someone in the steps of any dance without stepping on a foot.

“Woah there, didn’t know you already knew how to dance detective. Has this whole thing been a ruse? Have you been trying to get me to tell you things,” he asks, a devilish smirk engulfing his face, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the trim on Tinsley’s collar.

Tinsley gulped, “No, just know how to twirl someone. It’s the only two-person dance move that I won’t step on anyone’s feet.”

Ricky leaned in close to Tinsley’s ear, the two still spinning around to the music, “Good. One thing to know about me, Detective Tinsley, is that loose lips sink ships in my business. Which means that I’m not gonna trust some random detective with my secrets, now am I?”

He leaned back away from Tinsley’s face, as Tinsley responded, “What secret could you possibly have to tell the police, Goldsworth?”

“None of your business,” Ricky said, Tinsley accidentally tripping him up on this twirl. He started to fall forward, Tinsley grabbing his hand and pulling him up a little too hard, landing the younger man in his chest.

He awkwardly stared down with wide eyes, as Ricky snarked, “Take a guy to dinner first, Detective.”

Tinsley quickly stepped back from Ricky, making sure the other was okay. Ricky fixed his shirt and took his hat off. “You did earn it, so go ahead. Ask me a question. I won’t lie to you.”

“I also get to take off your mask, or did you forget,” Tinsley teased.

“Apologies, Detective, you can have one or the other. Your dancing skill won you the mask, but your conversation and the dancing; a question,” Ricky smirked, walking back towards his coat, “But you better choose quickly, I do have a party to host for around another hour and a half. You’re welcome to stay though, eat some food, drink, maybe find a pretty girl you like and woo her with some decent dancing.”

Tinsley stepped towards the smaller man, dwarfing him by a head or so, “What is this town so afraid of, I wonder. What makes them feel like lying to an officer?”

“Loss of power or control, threat, all are likely answers to your question. People fear what they cannot control over all else,” Ricky smoothly replied.

“I thought it was the unknown that man feared, staring into the dark but having to take a plunge anyways. It is why most people fear death.”

“That is the naive answer to that question, dearest detective, as some seek out the unknown. It is what we cannot control that plunges all of us into a stressed state. Once we lose control over our lives, we feel that we have hit rock bottom. People are desperate to remain powerful, in control over their own lives and destinies.”

Ricky placed the hat back over his head, fastening the buckle on the front of his coat, “Will you be accompanying me back into the ballroom?”

Tinsley offered out an arm, Ricky grabbing it gently. They walked like this until they entered back into the party, Ricky walking over to another crowd of girls.

“He’s quite the ladies man, isn’t he,” the white and silver fox stepped beside Tinsley, his orange counterpart standing nearby.

“Yeah, you were talking to him earlier, weren’t you? What’s your name?”

“I am Banjo, and this is my girlfriend Francesca. We are close friends to Ricky, or as you probably know him ‘Mister Goldsworth’.”

Francesca walked up to Banjo, dragging him away from Tinsley a little.

“Sorry sir, he’s a little bit of a knucklehead. I love your costume, by the way. Very classical,” Fran remarked, “But we will be leaving you to enjoy your evening now.”

Tinsley went to seek out Holly and Claire, who were making their way towards the drink table. He was willing to forgive Holly after his eerie conversation with Ricky.

“Holly! Claire! I gotta talk to you guys, but I also want a drink, so lemme grab one.”

“Do we know you?” Holly asked menacingly.

“It’s me? Tinsley!”

Holly looked him up and down, a confused look overtaking her face, before one of shock. Claire decided to respond to his outfit change with more of a verbal approach.

“OH MY GOD! WHO GAVE YOU THAT?!”

“Sorry Tinsley, what she means is ‘you look great! When did you have the opportunity to change into _that’_?” Holly stated, still in shock.

“I’ll explain, meet me up there though,” Tinsley said, pouring himself a drink after quickly pointing towards an empty space at the top of the staircase, adjacent to a candle holder. 

The three made their way up there, stopping at the area where Tinsley had gestured to, all three with a drink of choice. Claire held a flute of champagne, Holly a hot glass of what smelled like pumpkin pie in a glass, and Tinsley with another glass of spiked cider.

“Okay, so long story short; I got escorted to a room after I got pulled away from you. Our lovely host had something prepared for me because he knew I’d show up looking like shit, and it was this lovely thing. He left a message of ‘find me’ in a hatbox, so I ate some food hoping he’d get sick of waiting and find me first. Noticed a talented pair on the dance floor, so I followed the guy since he got off. Later, his group stood like ten feet away from where I was by then just standing. His group left and me and the dude have a little conversation, turns out he’s Goldsworth. I question him out in the garden and he starts dancing with me? Anyways, we have a little discussion then go back in, where I get briefly chatted up by two of his buddies, nothing threatening though. Then I ran into you and here we are,” Tinsley quickly whispers to the two older women.

“WHAT?”

Holly almost yells loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear, Tinsley adding “Yeah so what do I do? Like, did I do something wrong? Do I leave? He did seem a little suspicious when I was talking to him, but that could have just been my brain.”

Holly dragged him a few feet away, far enough so Claire couldn’t hear them. She yanked on his collar and seriously whisper yelled in his ear.

“Tinsley you listen to me and you listen close. That man is **dangerous**. You watch your back around him, okay? He’ll be a useful asset to have, but I’m going to warn you once, do NOT get attached to him in any way. He may not be the killer himself, but I’ve had my suspicions about him since the beginning.”

Tinsley keeps her advice in mind, deciding to think upon it when he gets back to his apartment. He finishes his drink speaking with Holly and Claire when a familiar name came from Claire’s lips.

“Ricky! You’ve met Detective Tinsley this evening, right?”

“Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman. He’s quite the excellent conversationalist, are you aware?”

“Yeah, now you’ve said hi, go away,” Holly chimed in from Claire’s side.

“Still icy I see, Holly. What have I done this lovely evening to piss you off? Was the drink table too alcoholic for your light stomach? Or the lighting, did it upset you?”

His tone was anything but polite, mocking and somewhat cold. Claire and Ricky laughed at this, Tinsley not sure about what to do.

“You’re a hoot, Ricky. She’s fine, I think she’s a little protective over Tinsley though. You’re gonna have to watch out.”

“Haha, well, I must be off. Good evening to the three of you,” he said, stalking off into a hallway at the end of the stairs. Tinsley noticed that Night and later Fran walked the same path as him, Banjo and Mia deciding to have a dance.

Tinsley, noting the suspicious behavior, decided to leave before he was tempted to another glass of cider. He tried to find the Mayor for his own clothes back, but gave up and decided to just go home in the costume.

He took the trek out to his car, taking off his mask once he was off the Manor grounds, considering Holly’s words of caution.

Ricky couldn’t be the killer, but he did have a secret on him. Maybe Holly was overreacting, maybe she thought the secret was that he knew the killer or something. Ricky could just be working in some bland company somewhere, a CEO or CFO. Maybe he just got rich in the prohibition like every other big shot family that stayed somewhat wealthy during the depression.

Tinsley got out of the costume very carefully, slipping off each piece and hanging it up with love. It was quite the outfit, no matter where it came from. He’d likely have to return it though, sadly.

He hopped into the shower for the second time that day, rinsing all of the hair gel out of his hair. He placed the pins on his bathroom counter and the wig on his coat rack in his office with the hat. 

In a few moments, after making some notes in his office and getting pajama bottoms on, he curled up with Buddy to go to bed.

“You need a bath tomorrow, Buddy.”

His sleep that night was surprisingly peaceful and filled with caramel apples or whiskey apple cider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in, please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, I do love me some feedback. Seriously though, your comments are like the highlight of my week. Love y’all!


	12. It’s What He Would’ve Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a random cocky asshole, wonder what will happen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Sorry this is a day late, fell asleep at the computer trying to write this. I’m awake now tho, so please enjoy!

Ricky had excused himself temporarily for the evening, choosing to wander to his bedroom before his office to meet his associates. They were his friends really, but he didn’t need whoever was on Night’s chopping block to know that. He took off his red mask for this portion of the evening, choosing to leave it on his bathroom counter, staring at himself in the mirror.

He’d actually made it through a conversation with Tinsley. Without revealing himself. That was a record-breaker, not that there was any record to break. He felt bad about lying about the maid, but not really. People get what’s coming to them, loose lips sink ships and all that business. Some people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time even. He would have to write another letter soon, maybe something to tease the ‘poor’ detective in his chase. 

He did make it almost too fun, the letters, the murders, the whole ‘being skeptical in the wrong causes’ thing. Ricky could definitely feel something special about Tinsley though, a true Sherlock Holmes under the horrendous taste in fashion and rude personality. Not that he was necessarily rude with Ricky so far, the detective just had a way of being overly curt with people, he supposed.

The thrill of the chase would have to wait for tonight, however. Ricky walked down the hallways to his office, stopping in front of the door with Fran, Banjo apparently left behind on the dance floor with Mia.

“The poor girl, he has left feet worse than that detective,” Ricky quietly remarked.

“Banjo isn’t that bad anymore, I’ve been teaching him.”

Ricky almost laughed but heard footsteps coming from the other end of the hall. It was Night, with a murderous tint to his eyes.

“Friends, are you ready? You each have your assignments for this task, and I am warning you now to keep to them no matter what you hear tonight.”

He was met with a brief and serious nod from both parties. They’d seen Night on the job before, and they’d both seen him angry but never before had he looked like this. A perfect storm of anger, calm, cool, and collected. He looked serious about whatever was awaiting them on the other side of that door.

They followed him in, Ricky then Fran, and stood off to the side of a man in an old wooden chair. There was no plastic on the floor, so Ricky would have to be careful until they could move him to the basement or the back of the cellar. No loud screams either, at least not until the crowd had left by tomorrow morning.

Night seemed to take a deep breath, calming his face to the collected stony look he always wore, assuring that the man in the chair couldn’t hear his breath. The Mayor stood off to the corner of the room, walking out with a quick wink from Night. After the lock of the office was clicked, the bag covering his face was removed quickly by Night.

The man looked around quickly and darkly smirked upon seeing Night’s face.

“Oh, hi boss. What’s this all about?”

The obvious feigned innocence in his second statement made Ricky’s eyebrow twitch. He’d done something, something bad. Night just stood there, a look of steely resolve on his face as he looked directly back into the man’s eyes.

“Took you long enough to find me. Thought you might never do it, to be honest. What’s with the fancy getup anyway boss?”

The gravel in his voice revealed that he likely hadn’t had water in at least a half a day, maybe more. Looks like the Mayor had just left him here after whatever lackey of Night’s had dropped him by. The trunk of the car probably wasn’t much better, Ricky supposed.

“Did you really do it?” Night’s voice was monotone, almost disappointed, “Please, just tell me the truth. It will make your life much easier if you just tell the truth.”

“Yeah. I did it. Thought it might be about time for a power change around here, or not here,” the man said, observing the office around him.

A slight tick in Night’s demeanor exposed his anger in the man, at least to Ricky and Fran.

“You know, Legs was a very forgiving guy. It was one of the reasons we worked so well together. He probably would have let a guy like you off easy, loyal for so long that ‘he just needs a reminder of who’s in charge, that’s all’, that's what Leg’s would’ve told me. Though I wouldn’t know how he would feel about you exactly, you did rat him out and backstab us, after all,” Night growled, stalking around the man, stopping behind him and grabbing his shoulders.

Ricky suddenly felt a rage burning in his stomach, and he could tell that Fran was also suddenly very shocked and irritated with this development in who was in the chair.

“Uh-oh, doesn’t look like my associates over there are very happy with you. Can you guess who they are?”

The man, still very nonchalant about the whole situation, sighed and opened his mouth, “Lemme guess, the girl is your new hot arm piece, and the guy… maybe some sort of replacement?”

Fran, suddenly infuriated, stalked up to the man, stopped by Ricky’s hand grabbing hers. Ricky was also engraged, ready to give out a few punches. More than a few. Night held them both back with a wave of his hand. They stood in place, seething from the audacity of a man who at this point should have spoken his last words.

“So, how did you do it. We do run quite the tight ship. How did a little rat like you make your way onto it?”

“Well,” the man looked to the ceiling for a second in thought, “I gained your loyalty, learned some things, saw no opportunity for furthering my career with you. Then, I saw weakness. I compared you to your partner. I sold him out so that I could take his place, a stronger, better version of that softie. He was too merciful, too giving. Men like that do not earn the position he was given.”

Night suddenly stopped in his tracks right in front of the man, as he had resumed his even pacing since his hostage started again.

“Say that about him again, and I’ll do you the pleasure of having Ricky here rip out your teeth,” Night snarled, getting up in his face, using a deadly whisper.

“It’s true and you know it. You could have the city if you had a shred of common sense when it came to your ranks. Instead, you kept the tall oaf around, and look where that left you. Dependent and stuck in the same old piece of territory.”

_ Slap.  _ Night now had tears in his eyes, refusing to let them spill.

“ _ What. The FUCK did you do,”  _ Night barked, looking directly into his eyes.

“You’re too late,” a laugh erupted from the man in the chair, Ricky still unsure of his name, “You’ve been too late since Fear got to him.”

Ricky knew that would be enough for Night. They would have to continue interrogating the rat about spilled information the next day. Night, however, did not feel that way. He checked the restraints and gestured for the group to meet in the hallway.

“Ricky. Take your passage down. Take  _ him _ with you. Fran, get Mia. Tell her she doesn’t have to watch, but she will be needed tonight. You and Banjo can stay or leave. If you feel that you will be useful, stay. If not, please leave.”

Fran nodded and tried to walk off, but Ricky stopped her.

“Listen, I want that deadbeat to feel every form of pain there is, but there’s still a party going on. I will need to have one final dance for my guests, and formally excuse them. No need for any suspicion from the Detective’s friends. We will also have the whole house once I excuse them, as the caterers have already cleaned up food. The Mayor said he’d take care of drinks. Can you wait? You look like you need a breather. Or a drink.”

“Fine, I don’t want the cops on my ass anyways.”

The group made their way back to the ballroom, Ricky stopping by his room for his mask, quickly tying it back on. He gave the Mayor a nod and a hand signal to start sending the staff home. The Mayor stalked off to begin letting off the men and women in servers uniforms. Ricky walked up to the mic, putting on a smile.

“Good evening wonderful guests! It is almost midnight, the time our Halloween ball must end. As our night comes to a close, I would like to announce the final dance, for anyone who would like to participate. Food has stopped being served about an hour ago, and drinks have been cut off. If you feel that you should not or do not want to dance, I would kindly ask you to begin leaving the ballroom,” Ricky informed them, ever the lovely host.

The staff had started heading towards the back entrance, and some of the guests began to leave out of the grand doors to the ballroom. Night had found Mia, and Fran had found Banjo. Both the couples were preparing to dance, and Ricky was quickly approached by multiple women as he left the band area. He chose one at random and asked her to dance, the band starting as soon as they were on the dance floor. Ricky found himself missing the tall detective’s simple learned dance moves as the girl he picked continued to step on his feet and try to giggle her way through a million apologies. 

As the orchestra slowed to a stop he found himself thanking the lord. Ricky walked up to the microphone and announced the night coming to a close.

“Hello again everyone! I have had such an enchanting evening, and I hope that you feel the same. I will be seeing you next time! Please make your way out of the ballroom, as our entertainment will need to pack up and my beloved home staff will want to clean the ballroom tonight.”

He walked back up to the office, quickly joined by Night for a moment, before he turned off to go to his room. He wasn’t going to ruin handcrafted clothes over some dirty scumbag, after all.

After a change into a fitted white t-shirt and slacks, he made his way to his office. Night had overseen the band leaving, and Fran had to help Mia and then tell Banjo about tonight’s plans.

He cut the man’s ankle restraints quickly, telling him, “Any funny business and you get stabbed a lot quicker than Night would like me to.”

“Who are you anyways? Why should I be afraid of your blade?”

“I’m Goldsworth, of course. And I know you’ve heard of me if you worked for them and talked to Fear.”

The man suddenly paled. Ricky tugged the bag back over the man’s head and dragged him down to his secret room by the ropes around his wrists.

He cut the man’s restraints around his wrists, clipping them into chains that kept them raised above his head. He decided not to be extra for the day, leaving ankles and legs unrestrained.

“Again, no funny business.”

He waited by his instrument table, deciding to make some idle conversation.

“Why Fear? He’s a dumbass and a failure waiting to happen. No style, no flair, and not good numbers.”

“I knew Legs wouldn’t see him coming. Especially if he thought he was a client. Lawyers always are stupid in that way. He’s better than you though, that’s what he told me.”

Ricky sighed, rubbing his head. The guy was beginning to get right down to his nerves, first the Legs thing then he decided to work with Fear? Of all people.

“Well, I suppose he would say that as a liar and an amateur. His bark is like that of a Great Dane, though his bite is that of an ant. You’ll find that I am much the opposite.”

“He got the job done.”

They stayed in silence, Ricky watching the doors for a sign of Night or Fran or Banjo or even Mia. He rearranged the tools he had, a few sets of pliers, his knife, and a few scalpels. He’d grabbed a gun from his room as well. He didn’t like using brass knuckles, something about them didn’t sit well in his brain.

Night walked in a few minutes later, mask removed. He had decided not to change, Ricky supposed he didn’t want to wait any longer for this.

Fran and Banjo had come in ‘to give out a few hits’ themselves. Night had told them to wait until the job was done, after he and Ricky were finished. They had also removed their masks, and the scarves they were wearing.

Mia had even walked in before the first question was asked, her face angry and the medkit in her hands in a deathly grip. The sword at her waist was now very obviously real, gripped in her other hand.

“Hey, torture guy, whatever your name was, want this?”

Ricky blinked and smirked, “Sure doc. Didn’t think you were the violence type.”

“Not normally. But I’m willing to make an exception here and there,” she decided, glaring at the man.

“You can take a shot with the sword later if you want too.”

Night cut off their conversation, “Doc, what are our main concerns going to be if we want this guy to stay conscious and alive, but still in a shitton of pain?”

“Blood loss is gonna be your main concern. Bruises should be okay, broken things are a little difficult to tell, but you should be okay to break some stuff.”

“Okay, Mister. Let’s find out what you really told them. Ricky, start with a few of those teeth, for the sharp mouth he had earlier.”

Ricky gladly complied after a quick thumbs up from Fran that his nearly soundproof doors were locked and that the guests were almost all gone.

-

Almost an hour and a half later, Night was finally satisfied with what he knew. He had squeezed every last drop of information from the man. Ricky knew that it would be dangerous for the man now that he had lost his relevance to Night.

“Okay, dear friend. Seems like you’re quite the chatty bird. I wonder what you’re trying to set up?”

Ricky had already started wiping blood off of his knife and Mia’s sword when Night asked that.

“I can see something coming. It feels different in the air, wherever you stand. I figure, might as well start something else in the meantime.”

“Thank you for your honesty, I really do commend you for that. But, sadly, I will be leaving you to the wolves now. Well, that is, after I do this,” Night said, pulling out his own knife. He carved a big, capital L into the skin of his left side, just below the ribs.

“Keep him alive guys. I think I’ll stick with what Legs would’ve wanted. He did just need a reminder of who was in charge.”

The second Night walked out of the room, Fran walked up to the table and grabbed the unused pair of brass knuckles. She aimed for his mouth and nose, hitting right where Ricky had taken out teeth. The man hissed with more pain, giving out the occasional yelp when Banjo would join with a slap to the cheek.

After the happy couple had left, Ricky and Mia remained in the room.

“You wanna take a shot kid?”

Mia walked up to the man, without any tools but the medkit. Ricky was impressed, how much the woman could hold herself back.

“Legs is my friend.”

She gave him a simple slap to the face. It looked like it could bruise, but she still showed quite the amount of personal restraint. 

Ricky on the other hand chose a different approach.

“You’re the reason that Night has been a mess these past few months. He’s a caring guy, to who he chooses to care about. He’s felt enough loss. Now it’s time for you to feel some,” he turned to Mia, “Think I can amputate a hand or something? Can you take care of that type of wound?”

“Yeah. Just can’t watch.”

Ricky walked off to a locker at the back of the room, opening the door. He rifled through a few bloody bats before his hand rested on a hatchet. He grabbed the stool at the back of the room. The man’s eyes were suddenly filled with fear.

“Nononono, I’ve learned my lesson I promise. PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!”

Ricky still hopped up the stepping stool, to where he could have enough height and enough force to cleanly cut off the joint. He adjusted the restraints so that he wouldn’t be able to escape, even with no hand. Mia turned away, as Ricky drew back his hand with the hatchet in it.

He brought it down in one clean swing, hitting the concrete with the screams from the man. Ricky picked the still warm hand off of the ground and chucked it into the trash can. The man was still screaming as Ricky came back. 

“Oh, shut up,” Ricky said as he pulled the man’s head and knocked it back against the concrete wall, taking a few hits to knock him out.

“Well Doc, you got quite the job on ya. Need me to move him to the table over there?”

Mia nodded and Ricky moved him, chaining his hand to the table. Ricky then quickly cleaned his own equipment of blood and the like.

He met his friends who were having drinks back inside of his office.

“What were you doing?”

“Ah, nothing too horrible. I’ll show Mia to her room in a little while, but for now, you guys should be shown to yourrooms. The Mayor has taken care of your luggage already, of course,” Ricky cooly responded.

He led Francesca and Banjo to their room, one of the bigger guest bedrooms. Night had requested a room switch when he told Ricky Leg’s wasn’t coming. He told Ricky one more thing before he entered his room.

“Is it okay if I stay with you for a week or so? I need a break from the city.”

“Of course.”

He finished up his night by checking up on Mia and their hostage, leaving the hostage with two more chains around his ankles. He took Mia to her room and went to shower. Blood on the arms isn’t the best moisturizer, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Love hearing your feedback! Make sure to tune in next week for more. Thank you so much!


	13. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky strikes up a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry the chapter is a little late today, just woke up later than I would have liked to. Hope you enjoy!

Tinsley walked into his office at the precinct with a coffee so hot it would melt his face off. He was looking forward to drinking it. He hadn’t had time to wait for it to cool, because he left with barely enough time to feed Buddy. He’d slowly been making progress on the case since the beginning of November, and it was only the fifth. He was working with a profiler, getting some info on the mindset of the killer. 

He’d also made some more connections on what type of person the killer would be physically. So far, he knew that the killer was probably local, had a Polaroid camera, was wealthy enough to buy not only a new camera with film but gold ink and nice paper. He probably had a quill set. He was smart, smart enough to know how not to leave behind a trace of who he was. He was a he, knowledge gifted to him by Holly.

Grabbing the key out of his pocket, he stacked his coffee on the box under his arm, filled with notes and files for him to add to his filing cabinets. He might as well make use of them if they were there. He quickly unlocked the door and turned the handle, catching it with his foot as it closed again. He took his coffee back in his hand, taking a sip that burned his tongue in a pleasant way, waking him up. The slight sweetness of sugar hit in an aftertaste when the heat had left his mouth.

As he opened the door the coffee, as well as the files, went straight to the floor. It spilled along his pant leg, one of his mugs shattering on the fake wood flooring.

“ _ Shit,”  _ Tinsley cursed, feeling the hot liquid on his skin, saving the box that he had dropped quickly and running to find some napkins in his desk drawer, avoiding the  _ thing  _ on his desktop.

-

Ricky had been brushing his teeth after the masquerade, thinking about what he’d been doing, or rather not been doing. He needed to pick the killer thing up again. He hadn’t done anything in a month, nothing more than sending letters to grace the Detective.

The idea hit him like a flash, and he quickly sped to finish brushing his teeth.  _ It’s been what, an hour? Maybe less,  _ Ricky hopefully thought as he sped down the grand staircase towards the wine cellar. He abruptly stopped when he reached the downstairs staircase, quickly walking down. Nothing much was down there really, just storage and of course the cement room that Ricky only occasionally used for his little ‘hobby’ of course.

He didn’t really like to  _ torture  _ all of his victims, preferring a quick twenty or so stab wounds to the abdomen. Plenty painful, and an easy way to end it. But he had this room installed anyways, for special insurance or whatever. He snapped on some gloves after entering.

Ricky rifled through the trash can, ignoring the man groaning on the table he’d been set on. Mia did a good job with him, his missing appendage was no longer bleeding severely, and all of his little cuts and bruises had bandages on them as well. He found what he was looking for, and  _ yep, it was still bendy enough. _

It would have to wait, of course, but Ricky still had to keep it fresh while it waited. Maybe four days?

Hopping back up the stairs, Ricky hummed a little tune, walking straight for the kitchen. He rummaged around a drawer for some twine and pins from his sewing kit. He selected five or so pins for the sacrifice, and then he grabbed twelve pencils.

He tied the pencils together, then secured the digits in position with more twine and pins. He set the finished product in the fridge, bloody end set on a towel so that the Mayor wouldn’t yell at him for getting blood in the fridge again.

-

Tinsley quickly cleaned up the spill, picking up the big pieces of white ceramic and depositing them in his trash can along with the napkins. He used another napkin to pick up the remaining small pieces without cutting his hand.

He then turned his attention to the object, or objects on his desk. It was a severed hand holding a dozen roses, four ivory roses, four deep, bloody red, and four black. The flowers were beautiful and of high quality. There was a line of the golden ink around where the hand had been severed, but not too close to the ring of dried blood at the base. The back of the hand had his symbol on it, also in gold.

He noticed one of the envelopes he’d been getting too many of for his liking. This was the seventh, but the victim count was still only at 10 unless a body accompanied the hand later.

He sighed loudly at the handwriting that was at this point familiar, the small scrawl writing ‘Detective’ on the front. He grabbed his letter opener and hoped for the best, not feeling any pictures in the nice paper.

He pulled out the sheet and sat at his desk, prepared for the usual with the letters. The last one had been very brief, sent to him a couple of weeks ago.

_ Detective, _

_ Apologies for my last letter, I was rushed. As you may have noticed, this is the seventh letter I have written to you. You have not even acknowledged this in the papers, much less among your little police friends. I will keep your secret, of course. But I do wonder why you never throw them away. If my memory serves correctly, you keep them pinned up on that little board of yours, or shoved into a messy desk drawer. I haven’t been in your house, just observing of course. I always like my letters to come with a gift. Most of my gifts to you have been rather morbid, but I hope you enjoy the flowers. They do tell rather interesting things about people, wouldn’t you say? I can’t guarantee no more bodies though, just thought it would be a nice break. The hand isn’t mine, by the way. But it doesn’t come with the whole shebang either, just a hand. A second gift to make up for the lack of one last time. Catch the clue, dearest detective. I’ll see you next time. _

_ -G _

The golden initial stared at him from the bottom of the page. He immediately started searching for G’s clue that he’d left, reading through the letter a couple of times, pacing his office for a couple of minutes before it hit him.

_ I hope you enjoy the flowers. They do tell rather interesting things about people. _

Tinsley froze for a moment, then ran out to the lobby. He suddenly yelled to a now very confused lobby.

“Does ANYONE know anything about what flowers mean?!”

The crowd continued to stare at him, until Tinsley took another deep breath, flashed his badge, and yelled again.

“I’m a detective, now does anyone know anything about the meaning of flowers?!”

Two officers in the lobby made their way out towards their cars or desks, and the people waiting in chairs turned their heads away awkwardly. Anne stood up from her desk though.

“My sister Ashley is a florist, so I can try my best with what she’s taught me,” she said, her small heels clicking across the floor.

“Thank you,” Tinsley said, sighing that it was  _ her  _ of all people. He still hadn’t forgotten what she did on Halloween, nor had he forgiven her.

But, she was going to give him important information. He decided against bringing her to his office, as there was still a severed hand and letter on his desk.

He took her to one of their interrogation rooms, sitting across from her at a table.

“What do roses mean,” Tinsley blurted out, still in a frenzy from figuring out the clue.

“Well, it depends on the color,” Anne explained, trying to get Tinsley to sit down again, as he’d started pacing around the room again with his notepad.

“Uhhhh, dark red, let’s start with that one.”

“Dark red roses convey the same lovey-dovey meaning as red ones, but they have the added meaning of passion and commitment. It’s why they’re popular wedding flowers, as well as white.”

“Okay, and ivory? What do they mean?”

“Ivory or white?”

With a quick snap of ‘ivory’ from Tinsley, she began to think about what each of the two meant, “Ummm, that one’s a little foggy. From what I can think of, they can represent charm, richness, and innocence, no innocence is white roses. Oh yeah! They can also represent perfection to some.”

Tinsley continued to scribble down what she had said, still circling the table for a few more moments, when Anne asked a question of her own.

“Anything else?”

“Oh yeah, black.”

“Black roses? Damn, I wouldn’t put those in a bouquet to someone you love or are trying to confess to, detective. They symbolize death. Their unnatural color can also portray a sense of mystery or elusiveness. You have to put the stems into black dye treated water, or dip them in stain.”

He ignored the implication that he had someone he was sending this to. Finishing up his writing, he sent Anne back to her desk, quickly walking back to his office. He realized that there was still a severed hand on his desk, however, and panicked.

He’d  _ have  _ to make something up. There was no way he was going to try and explain to his superiors that he’d gotten a dozen roses from a serial killer, along with a letter. That would sound suspicious, of course, and then he’d have to suddenly explain six more letters to his boss, probably get fired, and on top of that ruin his rep as a detective.

He went into one of his drawers for a spare pair of gloves, snapping on the thin rubber, separating the bouquet from the hand, and placing the flowers on his desk. Grabbing the hand by the base, he walked to the Forensics lab.

“Hia Tinsley! What brings you- oh my god what is in your hand?”

Theo, their lead and only forensic guy, speed-walked over to Tinsley, abandoning whatever he was doing over by his microscope. Tinsley deposited the hand on the table in the center of the room, the hand making a small sound when touched to the metal.

“This was left on my desk this morning. I suspect our lovely friend the Golden Hour killer is responsible. Test the blood, see if you can find anything on the fingerprints, you know the drill.”

“They left you a whole HAND? Is it theirs? It’s not yours.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s theirs, now does it. Do your job, and I’ll do mine, Theo. You see worse on a daily basis. Call Celine in here if you need to. But you shouldn’t need a medical examiner to look at a hand, now should you?”

“No, detective. I’ll get right on it, the reports should be on your desk by this evening,” Theo sighed, looking down at the hand.

Tinsley walked briskly back to his office, putting the flowers, still undamaged, in a large desk drawer for the day. He’d take them home and put them in water still, for some reason. They were still pretty flowers, serial killer or not. They smelled like roses to him, no blood or anything weird on them but the hand. He put the letter on top of the flowers, shutting the desk drawer.

Turning his attention towards his notepad, he looked at what Anne had told him. The guy had an ego, that was apparent. Charming, rich, perfect, and elusive.  _ Well no shit on that last one, Tinsley.  _ Apparently he was passionate and committed as well, probably about this whole killing career. He hadn’t been caught yet.

He remembered to throw away his gloves when he checked his clock and it was lunchtime. He would have to go home and check on Buddy, add the letter to his collection, and change out of his coffee pants. He was glad that they were black.

He had forgotten about the flowers until he unlocked the door to his apartment and grabbed a glass of water.

“Shit! Oh hi, Buddy. How have you been?”

Buddy started winding himself around Tinsley’s legs, Tinsley grabbing a little treat for his kitty friend. He pulled a small piece of leftover bacon out of the fridge, feeding the crunchy meat to Buddy.

Buddy was quite the fan of bacon, Tinsley had learned. It was quite helpful when bath time came up. He would cook up breakfast for dinner, saving a few pieces of the bacon, breaking them up into cat-sized pieces. It was a treat saved only for bath time, and apparently when Tinsley was super stressed about receiving flowers from a serial killer.

He decided a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be a great quick lunch before driving back. He went to go change his pants, noting that today was laundry day when he grabbed his keys to leave again. He remembered the roses, and they would get rid of the empty office smell, he thought. 

“Ah hell, you know if we got any vases buddy,” Tinsley questioned aloud.

He rummaged through his cupboards, finding only a mason jar that would hold the dozen flowers. He wasn’t going to sacrifice one of his mugs, or the nice glasses that his mom had insisted on him having ‘for hosting guests, Charles’. They’d sat on his shelf, from apartment to apartment, for almost two years. He didn’t host any company.

They reminded Tinsley of her, but now was not the time to dote on the past, so he grabbed the jar and checked himself for his keys again.

“We’ll do something when I get home, okay? I gotta go to work.”

Buddy continued to sit in the sunny spot he’d found, not responding to Tinsley leaving the apartment at all.

Back at the precinct, he walked to the break room and filled the jar halfway with water. In his office, he put the flowers into the jar. They surprisingly fit well into the jar, the stems not too long, but long enough to give the roses a little room between the buds and the lip of the jar.

He was looking over his notes again when the door to his office was opened and in walked somebody. That somebody decided to open their mouth while they opened the door and just walked in.

“Hello Detective Tinsley, what’re you working on,” Ricky Goldsworth took a few more steps into the office, settling in a chair.

“I’m doing my job, what do you want? I hardly know you.”

“Well duh, that’s why I was trying to be polite. But, if you want to go straight to business,” Ricky said, smile fading quickly, “I need your help.”

“Aw, did the rich person have something spooky happen? Somebody step onto your property without permission?”

Ricky’s smile dropped further, “No, actually. Seeing as how you can find people and need money, and I need someone found and have money, I thought we could work something out.”

Tinsley was surprised at this turn of events. He isn’t generally the detective people come to when they need to find people.

“Oh yeah? Why should I help you? Who do you need to find that badly?”

“We can discuss the pretenses of who you’re going to find for me later, but it shouldn’t be too hard. I can’t do it because I’m busy, and if someone I work for knows I’m looking for this person, they’ll tell me to stop. And you should help me because that’s your job, and I don’t see or hear that you’re doing anything that time consuming that you can’t help a guy out for some extra cash. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal or anything,” Ricky explained, the eccentric rich persona gone, replaced with a businessman.

“What’s gonna be the pay?”

“Three thousand. One for taking the job and the other two after it’s done,” Ricky examined his nails, picking out a speck or two of dirt. He needed to give himself a manicure. Maybe he’d offer Night or Mia one too.

“That’s a lot of cash you’re shelling out for one person, Goldsworth.”

“Yep,” Ricky stated plainly, accentuating the p at the end, still examining his nails.

“I do it on the condition that I get to come along when I know where. You should have an officer on hand if the situation gets risky.”

He was really just concerned about what Ricky would do to a person he was shelling out three thousand bucks for. 

“You got yourself a deal, detective. You’ll need to sign this. I got a few papers and photos for you,” Ricky said, handing over a file.

Tinsley scribbled his signature on the paper after looking over the terms, with the ones Ricky had added quickly over the course of their conversation. Tinsley had barely observed that the cursive looked somewhat familiar when Ricky snatched the contract and placed it back into his black leather document holder.

“And here’s your first payment, all in cash of course,” he added, pulling out a black case, showing Tinsley the payment.

Tinsley shut the case again after counting out the 20’s, assuring that all 50 were there. He and Ricky shook hands, the shorter man looking him directly into the eyes. Ricky’s eyes were dark, the flecks of gold accompanying a spark of danger. 

Ricky walked out of the room, declaring “The flowers on your desk are quite nice, someone must’ve shelled out a lot of cash for those. They remind me of the ones I grow in my garden, actually. You got one nice girlfriend Tinsley. Nice doing business with ya.”

The man walked out of the office just as dramatically as he had entered, Tinsley noticing a very slight sway to his walk.

_ What did I just get myself into,  _ Tinsley thought, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes and dragging them down his face.

He opened the folder, taking the documents out.  _ Fear. Not many people with that last name in the states. Even less with a doctorate and the first name Franklyn. _

-

Ricky had decided to take a short drive after his successful conversation with Detective Tinsley. Apparently, the hand hadn’t scarred him too badly, he’d even kept the flowers on his desk.

He’d have Fear pinned in a week, and he’d be able to ditch the detective when they hit the town. If Fear was stupid enough to stay in a city, which Ricky didn’t doubt. Might’ve even stayed close enough to run his practice.

He got home just in time to make dinner, going through the garage. He’d decided on macaroni and cheese with steak, taking his coat off and throwing it over the back of a chair in the small conjoined kitchen/dining room.

Mia was in the kitchen enjoying a glass of lemonade that the Mayor had made earlier that day.

“We got a call from Fear when you were gone. He must’ve assumed that Night was up here for the week since he wasn’t in the office.”

“Yeah? What’d that fucker have to say? Tell me Night didn’t answer it.”

“Oh, Night answered it. He cried, wouldn’t tell me what Fear said before I took the phone and told Fear to back the hell off before we retaliate,” Mia explained, taking another sip of her lemonade, “What’s for dinner? Mayor said you’d make it tonight after you got home from wherever you were.”

“Oh, I’m already planning on retaliating. He doesn’t have a ‘Legs’ of his own though. I was talking to Detective Tinsley. Went for a nice seaside drive with the top off, and here I am. The sunset was prettier by the ocean though, I will say,” Ricky said, talking with his hands, grabbing ingredients out of the fridge, starting up some boiling water on the stove, pulling down a pan for the sauce as well.

“Isn’t that the detective that you gave a literal severed hand to? Shouldn't that guy be trauma- oh shit are you making Mac n cheese? I friggin love that stuff,” Mia gushed.

“Yes, I’m making macaroni and cheese,” Ricky chuckled, “and no, Tinsley isn’t  _ traumatized _ , as you put it. It’s just a game really. I kill people and leave clues for the dear detective to find and figure out. He doesn’t know it’s me yet. I don’t know if he’ll ever know.”

Ricky began shredding cheese and continued the conversation with Mia, who he was beginning to like this week that she’d decided to stay with Night. Quite the smart cookie, though not as smart as Tinsley. She was a little spacey though but made it up with endless energy.

He could tell why Night and Legs get along with her so well.

“Do you need any help?”

“Not at the moment, but you can be in charge of the pasta when it needs to go in.”

“Alrighty then murder dude.”

“You can call me Ricky, you know?”

“Oh, yeah I know, but I like nicknames. Much more fun,” she said, looking towards the water on the stove.

Ricky began to cook the steaks in a pan as well, pulling them out of the marinade they’d been sitting in all day. They sizzled when they hit the small bit of oil Ricky had put in the bottom of the pan. Mia put the pasta in a few minutes later when Ricky had started on the cheese sauce.

“I was thinking about doing manicures later, you and Night up for it?”

“I’m up for it, but we’ll have to tell Night to do it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ricky continued whisking the contents of the pan, adding more flour.

Ricky finished up dinner and plated it, Mia going to get Night and the Mayor. He brought all four plates to the table, as well as glasses of water and silverware. He brought out the pot for seconds and placed it on a potholder.

As soon as all five were seated at the table, the meal began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for tuning in again, I hope to see you next week! As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. Have a lovely week!


	14. Dead Couples and Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley gets frustrated about an on and off trend line and has dinner at the Miller-Horsley’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I sip my hot chocolate, I bring you this. Hope y’all enjoy! Also, thank you SO MUCH for more than 500 hits! You guys are seriously amazing. Quick PSA about this chapter: there is a slight mention of abuse.

“Holly honey!”

A voice chimed from the other end of the house, Holly in her office writing some article about a string of local robberies a couple of months ago. Holly took her ink splattered hands off of the typewriter keys.

“Yes dear?”

After no response from the downstairs, she quickly made her way towards the voice, she needed a break anyway. Claire was at the dining room table, deeply engrossed in a cookbook she’d bought a couple of years ago.

“What did you need, Claire,” Holly gently said, filling up a glass from the tap.

“Have you read today’s paper? I think we should invite Detective Tinsley over for dinner,” she explained, still flipping through the cookbook in front of her.

“Dear, I’m sure he’s fine,” Holly said, walking over to the table, looking at today’s headline.

_ Golden Hour Killer Takes Two! Double Event in Park! _

_ Never mind,  _ Holly thought.

“I’ll get right on that invite, then,” Holly sighed, walking over to the phone.

She looked at the note taped to the wall, dialing Tinsley’s address quickly, hoping that he was in his office at home. No answer. He was either at the official detective’s office, or god knows where following a lead.

She called the number that she practically had memorized at this point, getting directed to the office number she was looking for. He picked up.

“Detective CC Tinsley speaking, how may I help you today?”

A strained voice answered from Tinsley’s end of the line.

“Hey Tinsley, it’s Holly! Me and Claire were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight. It would be a nice break for you, and Claire is gonna try to cook something.”

“Ah, that sounds nice, but I have an interview tonight, and I-“ Tinsley began, Holly cutting him off.

“Let me rephrase this: you’re coming over tonight. What time is your interview going to end? We can be flexible,” she stonily explained, making sure that she was out of Claire’s earshot.

“Uhh, it should end at 6-6:30? Depends on how useful the information is.”

“Uh-huh, we’ll see you at ours. And if you’re late, I will personally come and track you down. Just letting you know. See you at 6:30!”

She gave Claire a little thumbs up while Tinsley said goodbye and curtly hung up. Claire had started collecting her purse and the car keys.

“Going to get groceries, see you later honey,” Claire said, pecking Holly on the cheek and heading towards the garage, before adding, “Don’t let me catch you on your typewriter when you get home either! You need to do something else today!”

She shut the door, and Holly heard the car start and leave the driveway.

-

Tinsley pulled back the crime scene tape, stepping onto the scene.

He had been told this one was bad in comparison to the previous bodies, but he wasn’t told why. He didn’t notice why it was worse anymore, maybe it was the prolonged exposure. Maybe it was him.

A couple lay on a picnic blanket, on a date before death struck. There were a couple of roses in the woman’s hand, but the overwhelming color of the scene would be red. It splattered the blanket, the clothes, the flowers. Dried red, tacky red. No fresh red, which was both a blessing and a curse. Officers had started clearing out for a moment, leaving Tinsley alone at the scene.

They had taken the bodies with them, put the roses in evidence bags. Tinsley noticed a piece of white among all the chaos, under the side of the blanket. He was quick to investigate, seeing the familiar scrawl on the envelope, this time in red, which he could only hope wasn’t what he thought it was.

He tucked it into his coat pocket, letting it rest near his car keys. Nobody had seen him place it there, gladly.

He went around a bend to the fountain, opening the envelope. He checked for a Polaroid and quickly found one. He’d have to present it and say he’d found it somewhere obscure, like in the man’s back pocket, when he was quickly examining the bodies.

He turned his head this way and that, feeling a pair of eyes on him. Nobody was in the surroundings of the park around him. The nearly barren trees and now shut off water feature conveyed silence, no human noises other than the ones coming from the crime scene.

He wrote it off as just more nerves, going back to the crime scene and handing Theo the photograph to be fingerprinted and checked for any signs of copycat behavior.

Anne had decided to make his schedule for calls easier, scheduling one suspect per day. Tinsley already knew that he would probably call and reschedule to get them all done in one day, tomorrow. He walked into his office and slipped the note out of his pocket.

This one was nothing special, just like the others. Except for the last paragraph, which contained a warning, offbeat from the other letters.

It read,  _ I thought you should know that the press are starting to get hungry. Pointing fingers can be quite an easy task for them, with the right names and money. They fancy themselves to be quite the investigators. Tread carefully in the coming weeks, Detective. Try to find the liars, you know our secret. _

He’d managed to keep the press at bay, what was going to be so different about this time? Did they have a mole in the department? Someone who wanted an extra bonus? Did he tell Holly too much? Was Holly only pretending?

A ring from the phone took his attention away from his train of thought. It was Holly, she ‘invited’ him to dinner. He’d have to ask her opinion on this whole thing at dinner tonight. He hoped they had strong stomachs.

He tossed the letter in his desk drawer along with the one that had flowers sent with it. The flowers had died a couple of days ago, about a week after he got them. They lived longer than he thought they would, that was for sure. But everything dies eventually if it’s an organic creature. Time continues to pass by. But beauty should be appreciated while it is on the planet. Time should not be cut short.

Tinsley began walking towards where he could pick up a copy of the autopsy report. Maybe outside the M.E.’s lab, maybe at the desk of an underpaid secretary.

He ended up having to take a copy from Anne, who was in charge of getting him the paperwork for the day too. He really needed to talk to Saunders about that assignment. Detective work could include setting up appointments and interviews and retrieving papers if it meant avoiding Anne.

He stopped by forensics on his way back to his office, deciding to ask Theo some questions about the picture. Maybe his search for an ink brand had yielded results.

“Hey Theo, what have you been up to today?”

“Busy busy busy. I’ve got a lot of tests to run, things to study under a microscope, and hopefully a killer to find. What do you need?”

Tinsley watched as he walked around his lab, grabbing stained pieces of fabric and dirt samples, replying,“Just wanted to know if there have been any developments, has your ink theory produced anything?”

“Not yet, detective. Surprisingly, corporations don’t like to talk to forensic scientists that work for police departments,” Theo curtly replied.

“Yeah, I get that sometimes too. Not too much love for the information seekers. They threaten to sick lawyers on you too?”

“Yes,” Theo sighed, “But seeing as how you don’t have any more business here, and I’ve placed all my existing reports on your desk the minute I’m finished with them, I wish you goodbye. Have a great day, well, as great as you can have. This case is certainly starting to get pesky.”

“Understatement of the year,” Tinsley said, only half-joking now.

He also had the research to do for the Goldsworth guy, and that would either be easy or hard. He’d hit a roadblock outside of finding the man’s practice. He was apparently a dentist in Vegas, so Tinsley had wondered what Ricky even wanted with a guy like Fear. Maybe he was just looking for a long lost uncle on his mom’s side or something.

He would keep looking, making calls, and checking out locations. Ricky didn’t seem to have much sinister intent, he even agreed to let Tinsley come to the location he’d pinned, once he did pin one that is.

Fear would have to be in a place where he could be hidden in plain sight. All of his staff that Tinsley had called say he has been in every day that he is supposed to be, and sometimes they’d even see him at a local bar or store outside of work hours. The last sighting Tinsley had heard of was at the bar of the Horseshoe Casino. Apparently, the guy had a thing for tempting the fates, he liked to waste cash on gambling and booze.

Tinsley personally never understood the thrill of gambling. His dad had taught him to play poker, but that was basically the extent of his playing. He didn’t like to take chances in anything, especially money. He’d rather just buy himself a book, or save it for a rainy day.

He’d have to start going through pseudonyms and talk to Fear’s personal secretary or something because he only had one apartment, and his landlady said he paid for it but hadn’t been in it for a couple of months. He’d also cross-reference empty spaces, and  _ this was going to be a lot of work. Shouldn’t have procrastinated to look for leads, _ Tinsley thought.

The extra pay was appreciated though, even if he was shelling out some of his services outside the line of duty. His phone rang again when he was looking through Celine’s notes. She had noted the normal stab wounds and cuts, but the female had bruises that were made before death, by about three to five days.  _ That’s strange,  _ Tinsley noted.

“Detective CC Tinsley, how may I help you today?”

Captain Saunders' voice sounded from the other end of the line, “Hey Tinsley, so I looked at your schedule that Anne had planned, and realized it was shit, so I decided to push some things around and leave you to finalize it with the actual calling of the suspects and families. Also, we got one of the sets of parents here ready to talk to you, but be careful because they just identified their son’s and who was soon to be their daughter in law’s bodies. They’re headed towards your office right now. Have a nice day.”

He hung up after the brief message, leaving Tinsley to scramble to clear his desk of any revealing paperwork or files, putting them in the drawer on top of the letters, in a semi neat stack that he’d have to go through later. He picked up a black pen and left his notepad out, scrolling through questions in his mind as there was a knock on his door.

_ And not a second too soon,  _ Tinsley praised himself mentally. The older couple walked in, the woman crying and the man carrying a stoic expression.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs.” He paused for a moment, waiting for their last names.

“Winfred,” The man responded.

“Mr. and Mrs. Winfred, well, please take a seat. I’m Detective Tinsley, and I have a few questions for you. Please do your best to answer each question honestly,” Tinsley drawled, having gone through this at least ten times already with ten more sets of loved ones and friends.

“Okay, but we want to know why anybody would do this to our son, Mister Tinsley.”

Tinsley inwardly cringed a little, “Well, I’ll do my best to fit the puzzle together. But I have to ask, do you know of anything that would make someone want to do this? Did your son have any enemies?”

“No, our boy was very good. His fiancée was as sweet as a peach too.”

Tinsley observed the man as his wife responded, a look of subtle guilt displayed on his face. He decided to restate the question in a more subtle way.

“Okay then, did your son have anything for this person to exploit? Any decisions that maybe weren’t the best decision?”

The man decided to chime in this time, “Now listen here, Tinsley. I don’t know what you heard or from who, but our son was a good man. He only started getting into things to pay for the wedding, and he said he’d never go too deep, and he didn’t. Don’t go blaming people you don’t know about.”

Ah shit, defensive parents. His favorite people in the world to deal with in a professional setting!

“I am not saying that your son did or did not do anything. Do you know what he was doing? That could put him in a common trend with the other victims, and could lead to us being able to catch the person who would do this to your son and his fiancée.”

“He was gettin’ into some extra work with a company a little up the coast. Just numbers and deliveries, why would that make him a target for anything? What kind of facts are you analyzing here?”

Tinsley decided to avoid the pointed questions, he knew what to look for now and where. He just had a few more questions to go.

“I am trying to form a pattern between the victims that involve certain behaviors shared between the cases. It can help us profile the killer, and find out who would do this.”

“Well, by the sound of how you’re doin’ your job, you haven’t been the greatest fit for the town. Our old detective would’ve solved it and put someone in the slammer by now,” the man retorted, seeming very proud of his answer.

Tinsley rolled his eyes in his head, and with a hint of sarcasm decided to say, “I guess age trumps experience, you’re right. But I do have a few more questions for you and your wife to answer before you leave. Do you know anyone in the town that you would suspect? Anyone that carries grudges easily, feels like a vigilante type when you see them react to conflict?”

“No sir, the only family that carries grudges in the town are the Jenkins’, but none of them could hurt a fly. Mrs. Jenkins faints at the sight of a paper cut and Mr. Jenkins can barely even stand the sight of vomit or hold a knife, much less kill someone with one,” the woman timidly cut back into the conversation.

“Good to know, and the last thing I have to ask before I send you good folk on your way is that we have evidence to believe that your son may have been rough with his fiancée. Has he had a history of violent behaviors? Any domestic disputes that you’ve known to get out of hand?”

“No, and I’m shocked that you would even come to a conclusion like that! What kind of evidence are they giving you here?”

“Just a question, Mr. Winfred. Glad to hear it, we can rule that one out of our list. You two folks have a nice day, I can get back to you with any news I hear about the case if you leave your number with Anne at the front desk. You can also take the police’s number, and here is my exact office’s contact information, for any suspicious behavior or discoveries you make,” Tinsley said, handing over a small card with his name and number scribbled on it.

They left his office, closing the door. When their footsteps had disappeared down the hallway, Tinsley whacked his forehead onto his desk, sighing very loudly.

It was only 5:20, so he did have some time to kill before the dinner. He supposed he could briefly look into the lead he’d been given, schedule more little talks, or look into that Fear guy again. He could also start looking more into the trend line between victims.

It was frustrating really, to have such a connection between one half of the data, then the other seemed to be the exact opposite. Nobody knew enough, or nobody was willing to tell him. He picked up his pen and pad and decided to hit records for the rest of the day. Maybe some complaint that happened years ago would give him some sort of clue. It was a lazy town anyways, how many files could they possibly have for him to look at?

Not a lot, was the answer to Tinsley’s question. And zero useful ones, at that. Quite the shocker, or not.

He swung back by his office and started to rifle through his papers and reports that he’d carelessly thrown into his drawer, pocketing the letters for the board at home in his seemingly signature beige trench coat.

Theo walked in with some lab reports, starting to deposit them on his desk when Tinsley stopped him.

“Hey Theo? These bruises seemed funny to you too, right?”

“Which bruises?”

“The ones on the autopsy report. The girl had bruises on her upper abdomen, but Celine dated them to almost a week before the murder.”

“Yeah, they sounded a little strange to me as well. I’ll look into that for you if you want,” Theo noted, adjusting his glasses back onto his nose.

“No no, you’re fine unless it’s scientifically better for you to do it. I know you have a lot on your plate as is, and questioning people isn’t your forte.”

“Yeah, I’ll see if there is any science there. But if there isn’t, you’ll know as soon as I do.”

He walked out of the office without another word, leaving Tinsley to sort through papers for the next fifteen minutes before he left.

-

A knock chimed at the door, a little before 6:30. The Miller-Horsley residence smelled delicious even from the outside. But the aroma was even better in the kitchen, Tinsley assumed. After the day he’d had, it was possibly the best smell on earth.

Claire answered the door, letting Tinsley in. He left his coat on, taking it off to hang it on the back of his chair.

Holly was at the table, silverware and plates already on the table.

“I decided on soup, hope that’s okay with everyone. I did make some bread though! And sides, of course.”

“Whatever it is, it smells delicious Claire. Thank you for inviting me over,” Tinsley said, allowing himself a sigh and a small smile.

“Work was that hard, huh?”

Claire brought a stack of bowls to the table, depositing one at each place setting, going back to grab the pot of soup with a ladle.

“Yep,” Tinsley simply responded, grabbing a few pieces of bread off the table.

Holly began serving herself some soup. Claire smacked both of their hands, scolding both of them.

“Now, Tinsley. I know that you’re probably an atheist, and I respect that. But as Holly should know by now, I grew up in a catholic household. So we do bless the food here.”

“Oh, sorry ma’am.”

“Not your fault dear, but my lovely Holly should know better than to try that by now.”

The food was blessed by Claire, then Tinsley started dipping his bread in the soup, the first few minutes of the meal going by in silence.

Tinsley noted the chili-like texture, but it didn’t taste like typical chili. The spice mixture gave it a different kick, and there was some kind of seasonal squash in it as well. The bread was good too. Tinsley realized how much he missed home cooking.

“So, what’s got you down Tinsley?” Claire asked sensitively.

“Nobody’s able to give me enough information without getting defensive. The lead that I saw at the beginning is presenting itself again, but that leaves a gap of 5 victims that ‘broke’ the trend. I need to know that they really don’t break that trend, but nobody knows them that well. Not their parents, not their employer, not even their significant other when and if they have one,” Tinsley explained, reaching for the bowl of broccoli, putting a little bit of butter on it.

“So you’re looking for secrets?”

“Dear, don’t go there with him,” Holly cut in.

Tinsley ate some more of his dinner, ignoring Holly’s comment.

“Yeah, I’m looking for secrets. You know anything about finding them?”

“Not really, but Holly’s right. You wouldn’t want to know anyways. It should be your last resort to go there,” Claire somewhat sarcastically retorted.

“Go where?” Tinsley questioned, now genuinely curious, “I am almost at my last straw here, guys.”

“You should try going through what was in their offices one more time,” Holly suggested.

“That’s my only clue?”

“Yes, now what’s going to be for dessert Claire?”

“I made one of the jars of peaches that the Goldsworths gave us into cobbler. It should be done in a few minutes, but we have to wait for it to cool,” Claire joyfully returned, gesturing back towards the kitchen, “And I bought ice cream to go with it too.”

“So how have you guys been doing? What have you been up to?”

“Well, Holly’s been working on some articles, the Hospital is still dealing with cold and flu season, we’ve been keeping busy,” Claire retorted.

“That’s good,” Tinsley said, helping clear up the table, “Can I help with dishes?”

Tinsley ended up washing the plates, Claire insisting on leaving everything to soak so that she could wash them later. She pulled the cobbler out of the oven while he was on his last plate, and  _ by god, it smelled delicious.  _

He joined Holly back at the table, where she was scooping some ice cream into bowls. She was followed by Claire, who put a generous amount of cobbler into a bowl which was handed to Tinsley, then served herself and Holly.

It tasted just as good as it smelled, Tinsley sighed, before the burning on his tongue required him to drink a little bit more water.

The peaches tasted perfect, and they had just the right amount of cinnamon and nutmeg. The batter was just as complementary to the fruit as the ice cream, and it was just about the best cobbler Tinsley had tasted.

“Where’d you say you got these peaches again?”

“Oh, Richard Goldsworth gave them to us, with a couple jars of salsa too. He’s quite the gardener, and quite the chef,” Claire remarked.

“That guy? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Tinsley chuckled, earning a laugh from Holly.

They moved to the sitting room, to say their goodbyes.

With a hug from Claire and a handshake from Holly, he started the drive back to his apartment.

-

The drive was pretty nice, the sunlight just barely remaining on his drive back. He noticed a new car on the street, a couple of spots ahead of where Tinsley parked. It was shiny, black, and didn’t look like it should belong to someone living in the same apartment complex as him. Someone probably had relatives visiting, he thought, putting any suspicions about it in the backseat. Nothing too weird anyway.

He made his way up the stairs, then down the hallway to his door. There were slight noises coming from inside the apartment, the occasional shuffle paired with a purring cat. Buddy wasn’t the type of cat to be very vocal when he was left alone, so Tinsley checked under the small crack in his door. The lights were on. He stood back up and checked his door quickly and quietly, it was unlocked.

Opening the door very slowly at first, he burst through the door. Pulling his gun from his side, ready to defend himself if necessary, his eyes fell on another pair across the kitchen dining room area, in the living room.

“Well hello there, detective.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for tuning in everyone! Hope to see you next week, and if you did enjoy leave a kudos or comment! I always love hearing your feedback or questions, it does make my day, or even my week. Just a final question before you leave, do I need to update the tags? Just let me know if you feel something should be tagged. Love you guys!


	15. Thanksgiving at the Goldsworths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley has a rather interesting experience for Thanksgiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome back to another chapter, I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for tuning in! If there are any fluent Spanish speakers in my audience, please do not hesitate to let me know of any errors, as I only have my limited knowledge and Google Translate.

“What are you doing in my house?!” Tinsley promptly shouted at the man lounging on his couch, Buddy now making his way over to his actual owner.

He had not dropped his gun yet, Ricky raising his hands somewhat mockingly, a lazy and ‘over this’ look tainting the features of his face.

“I’m here to talk, obviously. Put the gun down.”

Tinsley reluctantly put the gun down on the counter. He turned and grabbed a glass from the cupboard behind him, filling it with water.

“Well, how in the hell did you get in my house? And WHY did you feel it necessary to  _ break into my house _ to talk to me?”

Tinsley stood expectantly, waiting for a response from Ricky, who was now standing and slowly making his way towards Tinsley.

“Well, technically you live in an apartment, Detective, and you weren’t at work so I expected you’d be home. You left your door unlocked anyways, I thought it would be funny to try and scare you.”

“Well, why didn’t you just knock and see if I was actually here or not?” After Ricky inhaled to give a response, Tinsley cut him off again, “You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I find you in my  _ apartment _ again, and I might not put the gun down. Talk.”

“Thank you, or not, anyways; what’s the status of finding the good doctor?”

Tinsley huffed and responded, “It’s going along fine, but  _ some of us _ have actual work to do, Goldsworth.”

Ricky's face lightened a little from the business face he’d been wearing earlier, but still not as friendly as a smile, “Ah yes, that little case you’ve been working. Anything I can do to help?”

“What information could you possibly have to give me? Have you been withholding information from the police, Goldsworth?” Tinsley smugly asked, remembering their conversation by the fountain.

“Of course not, I answered all of your questions to my ability. Maybe you’re just asking the wrong questions,” Ricky responded, now a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Tinsley stayed silent, refusing to let Ricky get on his nerves anymore. A few minutes passed by of Tinsley drinking his water and Ricky picking at his perfectly clean nails when the latter decided to break the silence.

“Fine, you won’t bite. My family is one of the oldest in the town. Comes with quite the information bundle on all the residents. Of course, it doesn’t help that my mother is quite the gossip, but I’ve got the dirt on just about everyone who matters in the area. Or I can find it, at least.”

“Right.”

“It’s true, you can even ask my mother herself if you’d like. She’s coming up from our summer home for Thanksgiving, if you’d like to join my family for dinner.”

“Why am I not surprised that you have a summer home,” Tinsley sighed, “We can talk on Thanksgiving, it’s what, like a week away? That’d be fine. I’ll make a list of shit to ask you.”

“Perfect, now I’ll get out of your mane and leave you to it. Dinner is served at 5, but you’re welcome to join the festivities early. Or if you have  _ official police questions _ to ask of course,” Ricky offered, walking to the door and putting a hat on, “Ciao.”

Tinsley stood in his kitchen for a moment, unable to respond to the man, unwilling to say goodbye even.  _ He’s a real pain in the ass sometimes _ , Tinsley thought, placing his glass in the sink. He’d get to it later.

Buddy decided to make another appearance, tapping Tinsley’s leg as if he was a child waiting for his parent to notice him after they were ‘just catching up with a friend’. Though he was a cat, and Ricky definitely wasn’t a friend, much less someone Tinsley wanted to catch up with. 

The extra dough didn’t hurt, however, so Tinsley thought he’d put up with the sass for a while. It was nice to have someone understand him too. He refilled Buddy’s water, noticing that it was probably the thing Buddy was bothering him about. 

He then walked to the calendar in his office and picked up a red pen, noting the time and place under the 27th of November. Now he had some work to do.

-

_ One week later _

Tinsley quickly got dressed having lost track of time that afternoon, tossing on a pair of slacks and a shirt, leaving the tie but deciding to slip on his trenchcoat on the way out. He checked his hair in the car mirror and passed it off after running a comb through it once or twice. It was still messy, of course, but passable by the Tinsley standard.

He sped off towards the manor, definitely going over the speed limit most of the way there. The driveway of Goldsworth manor slowed him down a little, as it was made of gravel instead of concrete. He checked down at his old watch and saw that the minute hand was at the four. He was about ten minutes early, instead of five, but he was gonna make that work somehow.

Stepping up to the door and giving a confident enough knock, Tinsley waited a moment. A woman opened the door. Not one Tinsley had seen, she wore a crisp green skirt that came just below her knee and a flowy white top. Her salt and pepper hair was set into charming curls that fell to her shoulders.

“Welcome, who are you looking for today?” she greeted with a kind, red-lipped smile.

“I’m here for dinner”, Tinsley dumbly responded, the woman welcoming him into the familiar foyer. She walked away, presumably to go grab someone.

There was something recognizable about her face and her walk. Her shiny black heels that looked like they cost more than his whole outfit clicked against the marble floor.

Instead of the woman returning, Ricky rounded the corner.

“Well hello there. You look like less of a mess than usual. Cleaned the trenchcoat?”

“You look,” Tinsley paused, observing Ricky for a moment. He wore black slacks and shiny black shoes, a burgundy vest adorning his chest. His black skinny tie matched the material of his pants, and his white shirt was rolled up to the elbow. It was tight enough to expose a great view of how muscular his arms were.

“Nice? Okay? Spit it out.”

“Good, you look fine. For an asshole, at least.”

Ricky rolled his eyes and gestured for Tinsley to follow, grabbing his wrist when he continued to stand in place.

“Come on, dinner’s still about seven minutes away and I want you to meet who’s here. Don’t be rude to them or I might just arrange an unfortunate little accident for you,” Ricky dragged Tinsley to a parlor near the dining room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tinsley asked, narrowing his eyes for a moment before Ricky dragged him in.

Tinsley noted that there weren’t a ton of people in the room compared to what he’d thought a Goldsworth thanksgiving would look like. He’d thought that it would be like a Halloween affair, big and over the top. Everyone was still dressed well, but socializing would be hard to avoid.

Ricky took him to the nearest people in the room, Tinsley recognizing them as the foxes from Halloween. They wore matching black suspenders and bow ties.

“Banjo, Fran, this is Detective Tinsley. He’s decided to join us for Thanksgiving this year. Detective, this is my friend Francesca and her boyfriend Banjo.”

Banjo stuck out his hand for Tinsley to take, Francesca electing to just greet him.

“Pleased to officially make your acquaintance, Tinsley.”

“Nice to meet you too, Francesca and Banjo.”

_ Shit, gonna have to remember names.  _ Tinsley quickly thought before Ricky took him to the next small group. They were dressed well too, the men in grey suits, the woman in a sunny yellow dress that puffed out at her waist.

“My cousins on my mom’s side, Maya, Leonardo, and Stephen. Cousins, this is Tinsley. He’s new in town and I decided to invite him over for dinner tonight.”

“Por lo general, no adoptas extraviados sociales, primo,” Leonardo joked, causing the four to chuckle, Tinsley awkwardly standing there.

“Although I do always enjoy the chance to touch up my Spanish, Leo, you do know the rules. No foreign languages unless everyone can understand it,” Ricky smiled tightly, Tinsley shaking all three of the cousin’s hands.

“Ah yes, apologies, Mister Tinsley. I hope you enjoy dinner.”

“It’s no problem, thank you guys for having me.”

Ricky dragged him over to Night and another girl from the party, who were wearing black and red, respectively. He quickly explained the Spanish on their trip to a few feet away.

“Sorry about them. My mom and their mom both come from Spain with my grandfather, so they thought it would be a handy skill for us to have. It’s very fun to speak sometimes.”

Night led up the conversation when he recognized Tinsley walking towards them.

“Ah, Detective Tinsley. It is a pleasure to see you again. Let me introduce my and Ricky’s mutual friend Mia.”

“Detective Tinsley? Is this the one that he won’t shut-“ she was cut off by a quick elbow jab from Night.

“Yes, that’s the one. Say hi, it’s only polite.”

“Oh yeah. Hi Tinsley, I’m Mia.”

Tinsley shook her hand, noting the simple ruby red she had on, different from most of the fabrics in the room.

“Hello Mia, I like your dress. Good to see you too Night.”

They were approached by the last person in the room, the woman in the green skirt. Tinsley offered his hand but got a hug instead of a handshake.

He tensed up in the woman’s arms, giving her a very awkward hug back. That was not something he was used to. At all.

“Ummmm, hi miss…”

“Oh, my apologies! I thought Ricky had already introduced me, but apparently his friends don’t get to hear about me. I’ve certainly heard a little earful about you.”

“Mama, stop embarrassing our guest. Tinsley, this is my mom. Or Ms. Goldsworth, if you prefer.”

Suddenly it clicked in his brain. The walk, the face, and the taste in clothing. She was his mom, duh.

“Well hello, Ms. Goldsworth. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her striking green eyes met his brown ones as she took his hand to shake.

Ricky looked at his watch and clapped twice, getting everyone’s attention.

“If everyone would like to take their seats, the Mayor should be done setting up the table by now.”

Everyone started vacating into the dining room, settling into the seats with their name cards on the plates. Nobody sat at the head of the table, the place still set.

Ricky sat across from Tinsley, Lucy across from Maya, Fran across from Banjo, Night across from an empty seat, and Mia at the other end of the table, diagonal from Night and the empty seat.

Tinsley watched Ricky and Night cringe at the sight of the empty place setting, that still had a name card on it, moving on once the Mayor brought in knives to carve the turkey. He took the place at the head of the table.

“Are all families this close with their butlers?” Tinsley asked Ricky with a mix of genuine curiosity and mocking.

“No, but the Mayor is practically family at this point, if you must know.”

They passed each dish of foods around, including stuffing, mashed potatoes, seasoned acorn squash rings, turkey, hot rolls, and some unfamiliar foods to Tinsley. Likely they were dishes that Lucy and her father had brought over and enjoyed to keep on the menu for Thanksgiving.

Tinsley watched the family animatedly converse, laughter, and the occasional abandoning of silverware to tell a story with more hand motioning.

Leonardo spoke to Ricky across the table, gesturing briefly at Tinsley.

“Entonces, ¿por qué la gabardina realmente se une a nosotros hoy, primo? ¿Alguien consiguió un nuevo novio?”

“Leo,” Lucy exclaimed, Ricky stopping her before smoothly replying himself.

“No, está aquí porque no tiene familia, pero sabrá mucho sobre eso sí continúa hablando así de mi invitado. And as I told you earlier, please don’t speak Spanish when only you, your siblings, me, and my mother are fluent.”

Lucy’s eyes temporarily widened at Ricky’s curt reply, Night almost choking from laughter.

“Apparently Night is fluent, because I’ve been teaching him,” Mia chimed in from the end of the table.

“Se viste como in vagabundo,” Leonardo muttered. “Podrías hacerlo mejor, primo.”

The conversation resumed a few minutes later when someone finally had the courage to break the scraping of silverware on plates.

Tinsley gained the courage to ask Lucy his questions about some of the victims' pasts, excited when he got meaningful answers, Lucy being unfazed by the nitty-gritty details about each of these people’s lives.

“Your son said you have quite the talent for gossip. I have some questions for you,” he said to the woman sitting next to him.

“I do, a housewife has not much else to do but learn secrets,” she excluded the exploiting of those secrets, Tinsley had no need for that information.

“I have some questions about some people here that I got stuck looking into their pasts.”

“Go ahead, Tinsley.”

“Robert O’Henry.”

“A total scammer, to put it lightly. Just look closely at his billing process compared to his advertising. Also, his tax forms if you really want to get into that.”

“George Angelo?”

“The principal? Carried out affairs with students, and just a general pedophile. Good person to ask about all of that is Claire, she was a temporary nurse there when the whole thing happened. The school also got sued, wherever you’d go to find that.”

“Joseph Bay and Charles Slater?”

She stiffened up slightly in response to those names, Ricky taking a slight notice to them as well, as if he hadn’t heard them dropped in a casual conversation in years.

“They were just going to university when I retired to the summer home, my lungs don’t like the air here much. I ‘used’ to smoke, and don’t tell my doctor detective, but I still do.”

“Okay, and last few. Dorothy Buford and I wanted to know if Linda Joy was involved in anything sketchy like her husband to be Robert was.”

“Dorothy was a mean gossip, used trust and secrets to ruin lives. A real bitch, if we’re being honest here. Linda Joy was a sweet little girl, but I did hear some stuff about her getting into cat burglary. That’s why Robert made ‘deliveries’, or so I’m told. All of this is town gossip really, so take it with a grain of salt. But if you know where to look, and I mean  _ really look,  _ then it’ll all be true. I like to sort my facts from fiction.”

Tinsley sat there, amazed by her memory of all this stuff, some of which should have happened years ago. He also knew where Ricky got his nonchalant business face now, able to discuss anything like it was the simplest and most normal thing in the world.

The trend line was starting to set itself into place, the only two outliers being Joseph and Charles. The killer probably had a personal connection to those two, they did go to the same university, maybe a student in their classes?

The dinner continued on, chatter at the table lively and stories twice as dramatically told as the last. Tinsley enjoyed it, it was almost like a performance. Ricky tapped his glass with his fork, placing it back on the napkin.

“As the current heir to the Goldsworth family estate, and second in line for the De Santos properties, I thank all of you for coming today. This year has been filled with many things to be thankful for, and many things to be sad about. Before we bring out dessert, I would like us to all sit for a moment and toast to all the things we have to be grateful for. Each other, money, food, the ability to maintain our lifestyles, and the world we live in all come to mind based on our dinner conversation. I for one, am especially thankful for kindness and understanding this year.”

Glasses were clinked and the room fell quiet for a minute or two before Ricky and the Mayor took all of the dirty dishes and placed them on a cart, taking them off to the kitchen to be washed later. They brought out a few different pies and small dishes of flan.

“I’ll come around the table, don’t worry about it,” the Mayor gestured for Ricky to sit back down at the table.

Dessert was quickly consumed, leaving a few guests feeling so full that they made their way straight to their rooms once they could be excused.

Banjo in particular chimed “Thank you to the Mayor and Ricky. The food was spectacular as usual guys.”

Words of agreement chimed through the room from whoever was left, and the people in the dining room continued to thin out. Soon it was just Lucy, Ricky, and Tinsley at the table.

Ricky got up to collect and start working on dishes, and Lucy went to go sleep. Tinsley decided to help Ricky collect the dishes in silence, following him to the kitchen to start working on the dishes used to serve and consume dinner.

Ricky took off his watch, leaving it on the windowsill above the sink. Then he left his vest and tie on the kitchen island.

“If you don’t want to do all these dishes with me, now’s your chance to leave Tinman,” he slightly yawned at the end of the statement.

“I can help, I want to talk to you anyways. Not much opportunity during dinner.”

“Oh, sorry about that. You did have your ‘official police questions’ or whatever. Well, you can dry if you really want to do something, towels are in the bottom left drawer to where I’m standing. I did all the pots and pans earlier today with the Mayor, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

He started washing, hot water running over the pile of dishes in the sink, washing off some of the residues on plates. Ricky grabbed a sponge and started washing, handing things to Tinsley once he deemed them clean.

“So what’s on the list?”

“What’s with taking off the vest?”

“Oh so  _ now _ you want to do the small talk,” Ricky sarcastically began, “Didn’t want water or anything to get on it, I’ve had a dish or two fight back.”

“I don’t have many questions for you, actually, your mom answered most of them during dinner.”

“She’s quite the charming lady, no?”

He chuckled a little, Tinsley going stoic for a moment remembering his own mother. She was just about the opposite of Ricky’s mom, but she was still kind, and honest, and really cared about her family. Tinsley missed her.

“Yeah, I’ve never really met someone like her if I’m being honest. Besides you of course.”

“Not many Spaniards in your life? Or just friends in general? No offense, but you don’t seem like the most extroverted of people.”

“No offense taken, you got it right anyways.”

“Well detective, since you don’t have any official questions, but you still have questions, what did you want to ask?”

“Ummm, I guess let’s start with what that guy was saying about me in Spanish?”

Ricky let out a laugh, “Some things are better unknown, detective. They just asked why you were here and during dinner they brought up that you looked lonely.”

“What were you in charge of making for dinner?”

“I made the sides that you avoided, the stuffing, potatoes, pie, rolls, and flan. I had a busy couple days.”

“Well the food was great, you and the Mayor did a good job with everything. Everyone seemed happy.”

As the conversation went on, the amount of dishes in the sink had almost exponentially decreased, Ricky only having a few serving utensils to clean.

As Tinsley dried the last dish and Ricky started putting things in their places around the kitchen, Tinsley decided to tell Ricky the news he’d received.

“Hey, I got some news for you about the whole Fear ordeal.”

“Really? Do tell,” Ricky paid his full attention to Tinsley now, stopping a few feet away from him on his way to get more things to put away.

“I’ve managed to track down locations to check in the city area place he’s in. It’s not super far either, surprisingly.”

“That’s great Tinsley! We should leave tonight, if it’s where I’m thinking. I don’t want to waste time driving to Vegas tomorrow if it’s barely 7:45 and we could get there by 11 if we really got going.”

“Okay? Are you just always packed for a vacation there or something? We would still have to rent a hotel, gas up my car, pack groceries,” Tinsley began, until Ricky cut him off.

“My cousin lives there and rents a spare apartment, so if you just want to go and grab some things that you’ll need for like a weekend, I can come to pick you up in my car. It’s gassed up, and I can bring some leftovers from tonight to put in the fridge.”

Tinsley thought about it for a minute and sighed loudly. He was taking some vacation days over thanksgiving weekend anyways, Claire and Holly had insisted that he was getting a little too obsessed over his work.

“Fine, pull in front of my complex at 8:10. I know what your car looks like already.”

He was really just looking forward to eating more of that Thanksgiving food Ricky would be packing. And getting paid of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all the way to the end, drop a kudos or comment if you enjoyed. I’ll see you epic gamers next week (fingers crossed)! Have a wonderful weekend everybody.


	16. Finding Dr. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovely boys go on a search for Fear. Don’t hate me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Glad you decided to join me again this week. Hope you enjoy, please don’t slaughter me!

Tinsley threw his small bag in the back of Ricky’s car, pulling himself into the passenger seat. Ricky was somehow well dressed again, now wearing a fitted jacket, with a black coat in the middle of the front seat. His tie was still absent from the ensemble, but he unbuttoned a couple of the top buttons on his shirt to ‘complete the look’ instead.

Ricky has silently started the drive, Tinsley looking at the dark red leather and black interior of Ricky’s car, he’d noticed how nice it was. 

“What kind of car do you have?”

Ricky’s face lit up in a smile when asked about his car, it was clearly well taken care of, “Like what you see?” he beamed. “It’s a 1947 Bentley Graber Cabriolet. I put a chunk of inheritance away for it when my dad died in 1946. What’s in your garage, detective?”

“I don’t even know, it’s silvery grey and gets me from point A to point B. My parents got it for me a little while back,” Tinsley responded. He didn’t really care much for cars, but Ricky on the other hand seemed like a sports car guy.

Tinsley reached to turn on the radio, and Ricky didn’t stop him. A channel started playing music, and as he reached to change it, then Ricky stopped him.

“Nope.”

Tinsley didn’t question any further, deciding to pull his coat off under his seatbelt, grabbing the book he had stowed in his pocket before he put the coat down next to Ricky’s in the middle of the seat. He made the most of the remaining light for about fifteen minutes before the sun had retreated enough for him to not see the words anymore.

They were on the highway by that point, Ricky turning on his lights in the absence of many street lights, or lights in general.

A few more minutes of silence passed them by until Tinsley asked, “So, what’d you pack?”

“As in food? Some of the leftovers, a few slices of pie, milk, and eggs. I have longer-lasting food and clothing basics at the apartment. I did pack some of my ‘travel closet’ though.”

“So you have an apartment in Vegas too now? What for?”

“I occasionally work there and visit Night. His and his business partner’s law firm is based there,” Ricky explained.

“Oh, that’s interesting. Does Mia work there too? At the law firm.”

Ricky chuckled for a second, “In a way, yes.”

“What do you do for a living? I mean, the way you dress, your car, the fact that you have three nice places to live, all that doesn’t scream ‘stays at home for a living’. Unless your inheritance really was  _ that much. _ ”

“Well, my grandfather invested in coal way back when, and I still do the financials for that company, just not the Human Resources. Then my father placed some wise investments after the depression, and I get cash from those businesses as long as I play nice and occasionally help them out.”

“Oh, that’s quite the past. What’d your mom and other grandpa do?”

“If you must know, my mom was a stay at home mother and my grandfather on that side somehow got into the mafia. What did your parents do?”

“Don’t get chummy with me, Goldsworth,” Tinsley suddenly snapped.

“Okay, just thought we were getting friendlier. What were you reading earlier? The cover looked interesting,” Ricky questioned, quickly diverting the conversation to a different topic.

“Of course you’re the type to judge a book by it’s cover. I picked up a copy of Invisible Man the other day in the book store. It’s only a year old so nobody ruined it for me yet.”

“Does that happen often?”

“In the papers or interviews sometimes they say rather unsavory things about the book, or they reveal things that happen in the book. Do you read often?”

“I have to admit that I’m not much of a reader, but I do enjoy music, movies, and plays. Poetry has always been a favorite of mine,” Ricky replied.

“Interesting, do you have a favorite poet or poem?”

“I like Robert Frost’s New Hampshire collection. Do you have a favorite book?”

“The picture of Dorian Grey is a good one, the copy at my house is well-loved. I also really like books that question my thinking about things,” Tinsley countered.

“I think my mom read that once, she said it was good.”

The conversation fell into another lull, Tinsley observing what he could in the car without seeming suspicious. Ricky kept a clean car, that was for sure. He had a pair of sunglasses with a black brow line and gold bridge out on the dash. He decided to look out the window, changing his sitting position to take up more of the seat, moving his and Ricky’s coats a little bit.

“Watch the leather.”

Tinsley started to lull off to sleep, Ricky just turning down the radio a little bit, not wanting to deal with any more talking while he was driving. He took a drink from the water bottle underneath his coat a few times during the next few hours of the drive, pulling into the part of town his apartment was stationed in, on the outskirts of the casinos. Close enough so he could walk to them but far enough that he could sleep peacefully without the lights and sounds bothering him.

He pulled down a few streets, choosing the parking complex closest to his second ‘home’. He shook Tinsley awake once they were parked.

“Get up, we’re here.”

Tinsley somewhat groggily collected his coat and bag, Ricky pulling on his coat. He grabbed a cooler from the backseat and a medium suitcase.

“Here, lemme get your suitcase, mine’s on wheels,” Tinsley offered, still sleepy.

Ricky handed it over, Tinsley somewhat surprised at the weight. It was a little heftier than he had expected Ricky’s small packing list would be. How much would a pair of shoes and a few ties weigh?

They walked towards the complex, passing over from the parking garage to the complex itself. Ricky stopped by the front desk for a moment.

“Hey, Rachel, nice to see you again! Could you give me my spare key please? My guest needs to have one to get in if I’m not there with him.”

The older receptionist looked up from her magazine, “Oh hello there Ricky, it’s nice to see you too! I’ll grab that spare key so you and your guest can be on your way. What are you in town for this month?”

“Just some business, but I might have time to grab brunch with you on Saturday if you’d be interested,” Ricky offered.

“No, no, I’m pretty busy this weekend. I’m excited to see my grandkids. My kids invited me up to St. George for Thanksgiving this weekend. We don’t like to celebrate it on Thursday when three-quarters of my family have work,” she explained, handing Ricky the key.

“That’s nice, have a great weekend, and thank you for the spare!”

Ricky led Tinsley to the elevator, pressing the up button and waiting a minute for the elevator to arrive and the doors to open. They got in, Tinsley setting down Ricky’s suitcase for a minute while Ricky selected the 11th floor. 

“Lose my spare or forget to give it back to me and I will get you to find it. Not gonna have some rando break into my apartment because you dropped the key somewhere,” Ricky advised, handing Tinsley the key on a little keyring. Tinsley placed it in his coat pocket next to his own apartment key. He’d left it unlocked after he called Holly to take care of Buddy for the weekend, or longer if he made the call. He hoped he could be home by Monday, especially if he had to explain his absence when another body was discovered.

Ricky led him out of the elevator and down a corridor, turning the corner and opening the door to his apartment, revealing a pretty spacious front room, with a large window and balcony door.

“I’m hungry, gonna grab myself a snack. You want some chips and salsa?”

Tinsley gently responded with his own question, “Where should I put the bags?”

“Oh, just leave them, we can take care of it later. I’m gonna have some food. Feel free to walk around a little, the restroom is open and the shower has hot water too.”

Tinsley left the bags on the fake wood floors, going to check out the nighttime view of the city. This apartment had certainly cost Ricky a pretty penny, that was for sure.

“You’re welcome to go out on the balcony if you’d like,” Ricky informed, leaning up against the counter and eating salsa from a small jar with the pile of chips he’d placed on the counter.

Tinsley decided to go down the only hallway leading towards the bedroom and bathroom. The red wallpaper was contrasted by warm lights protruding from the walls, a contrast to the creamy white of the kitchen and sitting room. Ricky’s furniture was black, as were his counters and cabinets. His appliances were either silver or white. The theme extended through the space, though the red theme popped up in more places than just the wallpaper.

He remembered Ricky’s closet as well, from the red pirate coat on Halloween to the red vest on thanksgiving.

“Are you a fan of the color red or something? You always seem to keep a hefty amount of it around you.”

“Well, I look good in it and I do like it.”

“I like the pattern on the wallpaper, very old feeling,” Tinsley attempted a compliment.

He walked into the bedroom of the place, noticing the cream color return on the walls and the carpet. He walked around, looking at the dresser and the closet, sitting on the made bed for a minute. Then it hit him; this was the  _ only  _ bedroom. He quickly checked for another bedroom, only finding the bathroom and a room that had some paintings and a plant in it, as well as some drawers and an easel.

He raised his voice so Ricky could hear him, standing out in the hallway.

“Ricky? There’s only one bedroom!”

“Yeah, I planned on you sleeping on the couch. You don’t seem like the type to care where you’re going to sleep,” Ricky replied, walking down the hallway past Tinsley to the bathroom, “I have spare blankets and pillows though, I’m not that crazy.”

Tinsley walked out to grab his suitcase, shoving it face up under the coffee table. Ricky went out and grabbed his own, starting to take it to his room when Tinsley stopped him for a moment.

“You know, a gracious host wouldn’t have assumed that I would just ‘be okay’ with sleeping on the  _ couch _ .”

“Ah, but seeing as how this is my apartment, and you could have been kicked to the street to find your own crappy hotel room, and I’m the one paying you, you’re going to have to deal with it anyways,” Ricky countered.

He passed by Tinsley anyways, going to unpack some of the things he’d brought.

Tinsley ended up on the couch that night.

-

Ricky woke up early the next morning, catching the last few rays of the sunrise. He quietly crept through the apartment, now hyper-aware of his movements when he remembered the guest staying on his couch.

The coffee maker was the only sound for a moment, Ricky watching the grounds turn into a dark liquid. He then went to the fridge to grab the milk he’d packed. Night would probably be a little mad if he found him when he returned today. Okay, more than just a little mad, but Ricky would face those consequences alone.

He enjoyed his morning coffee out on the balcony. Ricky watched the city’s day life start up, and when his mug was empty he walked back inside to start breakfast. Checking the containers in the fridge, he decided to make some scrambled eggs, heated up turkey, and warm rolls.

He placed some rolls on a plate and put them in the oven, pressing ‘preheat’.  _ They’ll be done by the time I finish with everything else _ , Ricky thought.

He grabbed a pan, some spices from his spice rack, and the milk again. He placed the turkey slices in the pan to lightly heat them, cooking the eggs right after.

Tinsley at this point had begun to stir from his sleep, getting up as Ricky pulled the rolls out and put things on two plates, taking the butter out of the fridge as well.

“Well good morning to you as well, sleepyhead. I made breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”

Tinsley grumbled in response, Ricky getting another mug down.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He poured whatever was left in the pot into Tinsley’s mug, bringing both plates and the mug to the small table, going back for silverware. Tinsley had a few sips of his coffee.

“Thank you,” he said after a few more drinks from the mug.

“Oh so it speaks now,” Ricky mockingly responded.

“I’m not a morning person, and definitely not a morning person when I’m in your company.”

“Rude, eat your breakfast.”

The two ate in silence, much to Tinsley’s relief, Ricky taking the dishes and quickly washing them off, getting out a drying rack for the day.

Tinsley went to the bathroom and got changed for the day, wearing his usual black slacks and white button-up, leaving the tie around his neck.

“What’re you getting dressed up for? You’re not at work you know,” Ricky commented once Tinsley walked back into the main room, stuffing his pajamas back into his suitcase.

“Why’re you still in a silk robe? Your husband just get murdered, Miss Hepburn?”

“Would you rather me be shirtless?”

“You got me there, but seriously, we gotta get to work,” Tinsley pressured, “Why do you want to find this Fear guy anyway? I’ve minded my own business because you‘re paying me to do this, but I’m curious. I am a detective, after all.”

“Oh, just some personal business I’ve got to take care of. I need to talk to him about something rather unsavory he did to one of my friends, get some background information on something else. I did agree to let you come, so nothing illegal of course.”

“Riiiight, well I have a list of places to hit today, then we can look at the next list tomorrow, and the last list on Sunday,” Tinsley explained, looking at his notepad. He’d separated the seemingly countless amount of locations into three separate piles.

“Let me grab a copy of the list just in case I get lost, so I know where you are,” Ricky said innocently.

“Okay, let me write that down for you, go get dressed.”

“Do I have to follow your little ‘dress code’? Are we going undercover?”

“You’re not an officer, and technically neither am I. Just get dressed.”

When Ricky came back out of the hallway he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Tinsley looked for a moment, then handed Ricky his copy of the list.

“Isn’t that going to be a little cold?”

“That’s why I’m taking this,” he grabbed the leather jacket he was wearing last night from his coat rack. Tinsley had donned his typical tan trench coat.

“Oh, let me go grab something I forgot really fast,” Ricky suddenly said, walking back to his bedroom.

-

The first few locations had been a bust, Tinsley scribbling them out in black ink with a pen from Ricky’s car. They had decided to stop for lunch before checking the last three locations for the afternoon, and maybe they’d check one last place after dinner.

Ricky walked back up to Tinsley from paying the check, putting his sunglasses back on.

“Let’s go check those other places.”

They got into Ricky’s car, which now had the top down, the air openly flowing around Tinsley’s already messy hair. Tinsley was allowed to drive today, with the threat of  _ ‘If you mess up my car, I will end you’. _ He didn’t understand why he and Holly weren’t friends, they were both very protective over their cars for some reason.

Tinsley pulled into a dingy parking lot beside an even dingier apartment complex. Why anyone would want to hide here was beyond Tinsley. He and Ricky walked up to the doors, Ricky taking charge this time.

“Hello mister, may we speak to whoever is in charge of leasing these apartments?”

“You’re lookin’ at him, kid. No leases open though,” a gruff, elderly man’s gravelly voice responded.

“Oh we weren’t looking for a lease, but we were wondering if we could ask you if a man fitting this description got a lease; he’s around 5’11, Caucasian, short grey hair that could have been gelled to the side, has light blue eyes, and a noticeable scar on the left cheek. He would have been in and out for the last few months.”

“What are you, cops?”

Tinsley stepped in with his badge, “Yes we are, so have you seen him, or no?”

“You can ask Mrs. Marlo, she knows all of the residents better than I ever will. I just sign leases and give keys, buddy. She lives in number 16. It’s on the second floor.”

They walked up to the second floor and knocked on number 16. It was a regrettable decision, politeness ended up costing them two hours of time that was wasted. She told them stories all about her grandchildren who wouldn’t keep her in their house, then some stories about some teens that she’d seen smoking the other day, and finally the residents of the building. No dice on a Dr. Fear sighting.

The other two locations they stopped by yielded similar results, time and answer wise. One of the landladies had to go through every single person’s lease because she did take photos when someone got signed onto a lease in her building. The other place, an abandoned warehouse, felt like a maze to search, with many hallways and a couple of storage containers filled with nothing. The various rooms and offices were also empty.

They returned to the apartment, Tinsley exhausted from traveling all day, and Ricky putting two plates of leftovers in the microwave. Ricky absentmindedly wandered around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl to put some pears in as well.

“That’s five locations down, twenty to go,” Tinsley sighed, amazed at Ricky still having a rather bright attitude.

“I’m sure that one of the locations will be right, and we know what not to do now,” Ricky explained, something more behind his words.

Ricky quickly ate his dinner, watching the sun start to sink lower into the sky. He went to his room for a moment, Tinsley picking his copy of Invisible Man back up. He read a few pages, flicking through a chapter before Ricky walked back out. He was now in black slacks, a black jacket, and a patterned green tie. His tie clip was gold, as was his watch and index finger ring. His shoes shined almost as much as the glinting metal strewn about his wardrobe. He was checking his slicked hair one more time when he asked Tinsley;

“Hey, wanna go to the Horseshoe Casino?”

Tinsley looked up from his book fully, very confused, “No?? We have actual work to do tomorrow, are you aware of that?”

“Fine, be a buzzkill. See you in a few hours,” Ricky remarked, grabbing his keys and walking out the door.

-

Tinsley got up from the couch about ten minutes later, curious as to what Ricky was actually up to. He wasn’t a gambler, he didn’t seem to like taking risks. If he wanted to get drunk there was a nice liquor collection in the apartment, and the atmosphere definitely wasn’t pleasant either. Which one did he mention? The Horseshoe? That sounded familiar to Tinsley somehow.

He pulled on his shoes and coat, calling a cab once he got onto the street.

“The Horseshoe Casino please,” he commanded the driver.

After around ten minutes they stopped, Tinsley forking over the necessary cash for the ride and getting out of the car, the bottom of his coat swishing a little in his hurry to get inside the building.

The crowd was definitely not a bonus, men and women around different kinds of tables. Some were just standing around, watching others play their money away with a drink. Music played in the background of all the chatter, all of the money being lost or gained.

Staff wandered around, people made their way to the different types of tables with their chips, and actual money. The velvet wallpaper and lower ceilings set the frontier environment around them.

He noticed Ricky relatively quickly among the people, holding a singular drink and walking around, talking to various people. Just talking. He did say he visited his cousin up here, he probably knew a couple of these people. Tinsley decided to get himself a drink and try to find the guy again, or just keep watching him.

He lost track of the smaller man when he turned his back for five seconds to order a drink, deciding to savor the whiskey before looking for Ricky again. He eventually just forgot to look, enjoying the music the orchestra was performing and the ambiance of the chatter. Occasionally there would be a cry of dissatisfaction or a yelp of joy coming from the crowd.

He left, asking the employee at the bar where the parking lot was. Tinsley walked out, going to look for Ricky’s car.

Ricky arrived about thirty minutes later, exclaiming, “Why the fuck did you follow me? Don’t think you were being sneaky, you’re a 6’4 disaster detective in a trenchcoat!”

“I was wondering why you were going to the most gambling heavy casino in Vegas, you don’t seem like the type to gamble your life away,” Tinsley tried to excuse himself.

“Nevermind, I don’t really care anyways. Get in the car, I know where Fear is and I’ve had only one small drink. I can drive.”

He got in the car himself, Tinsley quickly following. Ricky took off his tie and his jacket, black suspenders now visible. He took a deep breath for a minute, trying to find his keys.

“When did you find out where Fear is hiding? How did you glean that much information in less than an hour and fifteen minutes?”

“I have my skill set, and you have yours. You can find a vague location and some known whereabouts, and I can find the guy. Might take me a couple tries, but I can find them,” Ricky hastily explained, pulling out of the parking lot, trying to quickly make his way to an address scribbled on a cocktail napkin.

“Can you do that with murderers?” Tinsley jokingly asked, chuckling a little bit.

“What did I just say? A vague location and spots that they visit, and I’ll find them. But we actually have serious matters to focus on. Apparently, the guy does stop by the warehouse we searched today on a weekly basis. He must make a round of two or three different spots every week, but this is where he likes to meet with clients.”

“Clients? I thought this guy was a dentist,” Tinsley asked, now confused.

“I don’t know either, okay? I listen to what or where I’m told, and follow up with that. We should be there  _ right  _ after his last meeting slot.”

They pulled off to the side of an old concrete building, some of the lights still illuminating the darker street of businesses and complexes that were closing down for the night.

“We’ll search it together, but split up. Yell if you find him. You have a gun on you, right?”

“Yes?” Tinsley said, getting more confused by the minute.

“Good. I don’t know what we’ll run into in there, just being cautious.”

“But you don’t have one!”

Ricky had already run into the building and started searching the first floor. Tinsley went up to the third floor, thinking that if he was on the upper two floors he could trap them or flush them out to Ricky.

He was halfway through the first hallway when he broke the door of the break room on that floor down, a man in grey just standing there. He quickly drew his gun off the counter next to him before Tinsley could make a move for his.

“You come here with anyone?”

“No,” Tinsley quickly responded.

“I know a liar when I see one, but I will wait to see who your friend is. You can stand or sit, I’m not picky. But make a move for that gun tucked behind you, and I might just have to kill you. Which would be a damn shame, if your friend is who I think he is. I want him to see the light leave your eyes, then when he is truly broken I will end him too,” the man said plainly, not making a single move, even his face stayed completely still, besides the words leaving his lips.

“So you’re Dr. Fear? You don’t act much like a dentist.”

“Well, you’re pretty stupid for a detective, I am Dr. Fear.”

“Say you’re right about who’s downstairs, what does that mean? Why should you care about who I came here with?”

“I’m guessing he told you he didn’t know me? Well, that was a lie. But we can have a little  _ ‘discussion’ _ about that once he’s actually here. As I said, my little goal here is to ruin his hopes, kill you, etcetera etcetera,” Fear eerily explained, leaving Tinsley with a whole lot less bravado than he’d come in here with. Which wasn’t a lot to begin with.

“Why are you even interested in him? What did he do?”

“Well now I can see why you’re a detective,” Fear sarcastically remarked, “But if you want the whole backstory in short; we’re competitors. Well, we  _ were  _ competitors, at least. Until he outpaced me, and kinda took my job. Then his boss started to meddle in my organization of things around here. I’ll prove that they’re wrong. And then-”

“Ugh, are you monologuing? Seriously, shut up. Nobody wants to hear that,” a voice sounded from the hallway, Ricky poking his frame in the door, gun first, “I say this with pure honesty Fear, we have never and will never be ‘competitors’ or ‘rivals’ or whatever the hell you’re calling it this week. I’m just better than you. You need to accept that, and retire to your dentistry to pull rotten teeth.”

Fear paused for a minute, looking almost shocked that Ricky had come, “I could say the same to you, rich boy. Now, why don’t you tell me who you brought on your little trip with you? Did you somehow trick that detective to do it? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tricked you, you know.”

He directed that last statement at Tinsley. Ricky rolled his eyes for a minute, not taking his aim off of Fear.

“Shoot him and I shoot you, you know how that works, Fear. I knew you were old, didn’t know you were dumb.”

Tinsley had gotten sick of just standing there, electing to make himself heard at this point, “Okay, Fear guy? Shut your mouth for a minute. Ricky? What the hell is he talking about? I hate to tell you, but he’s making a lot of sense and no sense at the same time, and it’s concerning.”

Fear joined back in right after Tinsley had finished, “We’re getting to that in a moment, Detective. Aren’t you going to ask what we do? You had so many questions earlier, bullet got your tongue?”

Tinsley remained silent, Ricky following suit for a few minutes before replying.

“He’s not going to bite, he’s quite stubborn that way. But you’re actually not quite the reason I’m here. You know who I’m here to ask about.”

“Neither of you can take a joke, or a hint apparently. Fine, I’ll tell the secret,” he paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction from Ricky, “Oh come on, I’m gonna reveal two of your biggest life secrets, try to show a little interest.”

“I’m just thinking about who has a gun pointed at who, Doctor.”

“Remember, shoot me and I shoot him. You don’t want to see your dear detective’s blood dripping down his forehead, do you? Or I could also give him a slower death, but you  _ definitely _ wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Fine,” Ricky sighed dramatically, “ _ oh no, what will I ever do if this well-hidden secret gets revealed? _ ”

“It’ll do,” Fear muttered under his breath, “The hitman business is quite competitive for men like Ricky Goldsworth. Or would you rather I go by your street name, Goldy?”

Ricky threateningly took a step forward, gesturing towards Fear with the gun again, cocking it this time, “Don’t. You.  _ Fucking. Dare. _ ”

“Ooh, looks like we finally hit a nerve there, but take another step and-“ Fear began, almost excitedly, before Tinsley cut in once again.

“Yeah yeah, I die. Hits in Vegas  _ aren’t my job _ , dumbass. Why the hell should I care that you have a rivalry or whatever it is? The most I could do is report this to the local authorities. What I care about, however, is that you have a GUN pointed at my FACE.”

“Oh, but Detective Tinsley, you haven’t heard the best part! Do you wanna tell him, or am I gonna have to tell the big, elephant in the room level secret for you?”

Tinsley watched Ricky’s eyes go from aggressive to emotionless, to soft and dejected. His eyes were empty and sorrowful when he put down his gun. Fear did not do the same yet, Tinsley still feeling threatened in the moment, if not more threatened without a gun trained on the man who was willing to shoot him not five minutes ago.

His confident shoulders slumped, and he sighed before eight little words escaped his mouth.

“Dear Detective, I suppose we met. Signed, G.”

The anger and betrayal hit Tinsley like a freight train, the shock glued him in place. He had talked, on multiple occasions, to a serial killer. He had slept in the same house as a serial killer, sat at the same table, eaten food prepared by, complimented the appearance of, and so, so many more things. He had even  _ danced  _ with said serial killer.

His face was calm, but his eyes displayed the storm going on within. He stood there for a moment, thinking. He dropped to his knees, his brain temporarily malfunctioning. The world felt like it was in slow motion.

Fear took this as a great opportunity to beat a dead horse, adjusting his aim as Ricky shouted on deaf ears, “Tinsley!”

He snapped into action, putting his gun into use while Tinsley kneeled frozen in place. He shot at Fear’s hand, knocking the pistol from his now bleeding hand. He yelped in pain, Ricky taking the opportunity to take the remaining bullets out of his own gun discreetly, in case Fear managed to get it off him. He tucked it back into his waistband as Fear got a new object in his hands, a silver blade.

He ran at Tinsley, Ricky noticing his movements and leaping to knock the detective out of the way. His unfortunate positioning let the blade slash through his clothing and into his flesh, giving him a long, deep gash along his left side, beginning at his lower ribs, the knife lodging itself above his hip before Fear pulled it out.

Before the adrenaline could wear off he exclaimed, “Now that’s not very professional of you. I would have shot the detective in the heart once I finished my sentence, leaving me to mourn the quickly fading and now disappointed detective for a moment, where you could have taken me out too. Now look at the mess you’ve made.”

Ricky stood across from Fear, quickly pulling out his own knife. They stood for a moment, Fear taking the first step. He slashed at Ricky, and Ricky slashed back, catching fabric but no flesh.

Ricky caught Tinsley’s eyes for a moment, the receding shock starting to uproot him from the spot. Tinsley stood, and turned his back to the fight, starting to walk out of the room.

Fear took advantage of the moment, opening up another gash on Ricky’s chest, though this one wasn’t as deep. They fought their way around the room, Ricky knocking over a table and taking a successful swing at one of Fear’s arms, opening up a long slice along his shoulder. 

Tinsley stopped in the hallway and sighed.  _ You can’t arrest him for murder if he’s dead, CC,  _ he thought for a moment.  _ You can’t get a confession out of him either if he’s in a coma.  _ He decided to stand and think about it for a minute.

Fear had backed Ricky into a corner, but Ricky was ready. He ducked under Fear’s useless arm, reversing their positions and stabbing at his hand to get him to relinquish grip on the silver blade. When it was dropped he kneeled to catch it, Fear kneeing him in the nose, hard. More blood started to rush from Ricky’s nose, so he took the knife, still disoriented, and sank it into Fear’s leg somewhere.

Fear screamed as Ricky wiggled the knife a little. He fell when Fear’s other leg kicked him on his left. Fear got his chest lightly again, only catching fabric as he got up a little too quickly. He swung at Fear’s lower torso with his knife, sinking the blade in before Fear jumped back into the corner. As Ricky pulled back, his grip on his own knife slipped. The two stared each other down, one knife abandoned on the floor by accident, the other lodged in Fear’s leg. Ricky decided on just knocking him out, that was the current goal.

He got ready to take some swings at Fear, a short fistfight breaking out, giving Ricky a definite bruise to the cheek. He caught Fear in a second after he had taken another swing at Ricky. Ricky quickly closed his fist and aimed directly at the temple with all of his remaining strength, praying for a hit. It hit.

Fear fell to the floor, Ricky stumbling to keep himself standing. Tinsley walked back into the room, Ricky using a cupboard handle to keep himself up.

“Hi Tinsley, you came back.”

Tinsley responded by punching Ricky in the face, missing the nose but catching an eye instead.

Ricky yelped, grabbing at his face for a moment, “Okay, I definitely deserved that one. I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded though. Okay I lied. Very lightheaded.”

He took a couple of swaying steps towards Tinsley, passing out almost right in front of him.

Tinsley audibly sighed, picking up the man and taking him downstairs, Fear already gone.

_ “Dumbass,”  _ Tinsley muttered, taking off his trenchcoat to avoid getting blood on Ricky’s seats.

He started the drive to the nearest hospital, Ricky occasionally making slight movements or noises.  _ Good. He’s alive. Maybe I will get to arrest him after all if I can make a good enough case.  _ Tinsley tried to keep focusing on his positives through the whole ordeal, and the questions in the ER. He waited for the doctors to say that everything was going to be okay, that Ricky would be fine.

The sun was rising when a nurse finally approached him and took him to Ricky’s room, where Ricky was sleeping. He left the car keys in Ricky’s still somewhat opened hand and left the building to find a cab. He needed to fetch his bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you tune in next week to find out what happened to our dear Ricky and Tinsley. Love you my dear readers, and as always make sure to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	17. New Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky’s out of the hospital, Tinsley’s at a standstill with his case. New terms are settled between the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome (back) everyone! Wether you’re new or you’ve been coming back for more, I hope you enjoy. I have been writing a lot in the past few weeks, and might have a chapter estimate for you in a week or two. Love you my amazing readers! Thanks for sticking with me through the journey.

Tinsley had worked nonstop for a week and had more caffeine in his system than was probably humanly healthy. During the first week, he’d started thinking that it would be easy. Now on his sixth day without sleep, Goldsworth and Fear weren’t kidding when they said this was going to be difficult. He hadn’t even suspected Ricky beyond a little suspicion that went out towards everyone he interviewed.

So far he’d managed to track down clear connections to three, maybe four of the victims. Leads were not coming easy, and nobody had anything to say that was worth his time. Ricky’s letter had been accurate as well, the press were getting hungry.

They did have at least one person coming into the precinct claiming to be the killer every couple of days, but none of them knew about the letters. Or the flowers. Some of them didn’t even own a Polaroid camera.  _ A Polaroid camera _ .

Tinsley’s eyes suddenly widened. If he could get into Goldsworth Manor and find some piece of damning evidence, a handwriting sample, ink, or even the camera itself. 

He suddenly exclaimed to an empty office, “Why didn’t I think of that earlier!”

His hair was wild as he got up to grab his coat, running his hands through it excitedly. The logical side of Tinsley’s brain decided to chime in;  _ what if he’s still where you left him? He did sustain major injuries and he can’t show his face around you anyways. And you don’t have a warrant, so any evidence you get could be considered unlawful. _

He’d have to find evidence so damning that nobody cared, as long as this killer was stopped. He’d have to find it all. A signed confession from Goldsworth would be great too, but Tinsley quickly sorted that into his ‘not reality’ pile in his brain. 

A few hours of looking into more possible connections later, he had a solid four and a half connections formed, out of ten. Captain Saunders opened the door to his office, walking straight in. The darkness outside of Tinsley’s window signaled that he had stayed late as well.

“Tinsley. I want you to go home,” he ordered, steely concern in his eyes.

“No, I’m working on this,” Tinsley said, still facing the board where he was pinning down papers and taking down others.

“You’re on your sixth day without sleep. Most people don't even last three, Detective. Go home. That weekend trip you took really set you off, are you okay? Family trouble?”

He sat down in one of Tinsley’s chairs, clearly not built for a man like him. Tinsley turned around, leaning against a patch of the wall.

“You could say that, yeah. It’ll be okay though,” Tinsley reassured.

Saunders sighed as he made his next comment bluntly, “Tinsley. I was going to be nice about this, but you’ve given me no choice. The bags under your eyes are the size of my grandma’s luggage, and twice as heavy. You’re no use to me like this, so I suggest you go home to sleep before I put you on mandatory leave and revoke your access to not only this property but send someone home to keep you out of your office there too.

Tinsley let his head drop as a response, sighing as he grabbed his coat.

“Yes sir, see you tomorrow.”

He walked out to the back parking lot, where he’d been parked for the last few days. He had just gotten out of the door and started walking along the sidewalk when a smaller body pinned him to the wall, Tinsley feeling a cold metal blade pressed against his throat, the man taking a step back, the blade not moving.

It was Ricky. He looked better than a guy who got stabbed a few weeks ago should look.  _ Better than in a hospital bed, or worse,  _ Tinsley added in his head. There was a look of concern in his eyes. Tinsley observed the bruising around one of them in the dull lighting behind the building. He was still obviously taking it easy with his injured side, which extended to taking it easy with the rest of his body.

“Ricky? What the hell? Why are you here?! I could arr-“

Ricky abruptly cut him off, pressing the blade a little more into his throat. His voice was dangerous and low as he said, “Shut up.”

Tinsley quickly complied, Ricky continuing, “I know that right now you’re worried about what you learned. You can hate me all you want. But you did make a promise to me detective, and this is rather important for me to finish before you decide to ship me off to the nearest prison. Right now the people I love are in danger, and you’ve already dragged yourself into this whole mess when you decided to walk away that night. Fulfill your promise, and I will give you what you desire. A statement, a confession, evidence, you get the point.”

Tinsley shook his head slightly when the blade lightened a little, a spark of hope in his eyes that quickly died.

“Not to say that I don’t trust you, but I don’t trust you. I fulfilled my end of the deal already Goldsworth. What’s stopping me from just arresting you here and now and getting a confession out of you or your lovely friends?”

“I could incriminate you for taking bribes and signing contracts with a known criminal. If you help me now, I’ll hold up my end of the deal as well as get rid of any evidence of correspondence between us. I’m not enough to stop a whole force that he’s started to gather. You’re the only one I can trust right now.”

Tinsley finally got to have his own say in it, Ricky easing the blade off a little bit more, still keeping it too close for Tinsley’s liking. 

“Why the hell should I trust you?”

“Because you’re the only person who can help me right now, goddamnit! I thought your interests aligned with mine in this, but it’s clear that you only care about yourself.”

“So I should just forget about the time you almost got me killed, or the people that you’ve killed?”

Tinsley sneered at the shorter man, getting an icier glare in return.

“I never meant for Fear to get to you first.”

Tinsley paused, the air heavy with hatred as they stared each other down, eyes in a silent duel.

“Fine,” Tinsley coldly whispered, breaking the silence, “But you’re gonna give me a signed confession on my desk and a warrant to search your house.”

Ricky stared at him for a moment more, before clearly stating, “Meet me at my house, tomorrow, one in the afternoon.”

He walked into the parking lot, slightly limping into the dark with his knife glinting gold in his hand. Tinsley stood against the brick wall for a minute, huffing in frustration before walking to his car.

He speeded most of the way home and crashed directly onto his bed once he was up the stairs and through the door. Buddy curled up next to him.

-

Ricky remembered when he had woken up in the hospital, confused and a little surprised at the white walls surrounding him. The doctors told him that there wasn’t any major damage, and he should be out in a week or so, but to take it very easy even after he was out, only going on light walks with no physically demanding activities until a doctor had given it the ‘all clear’.

He had looked down at his stitches and remembered trying to count every one, giving up on twenty and asking a nurse later that day. She told him that he had at least sixty on his side, but only bandaging was required on his chest, bandages wrapped around the affected area, secured on one of his shoulders. 

His body ached with bruises that day, and he looked at his swollen eye for the first time. It was pretty bad, the detective knew how to throw a punch. His cheek hurt less but was still slightly purple and swelling.

A week of confinement to a bed, with some very slight walking practice later, Ricky was out of the hospital. His eye was still mostly shut, stitches and bandages still in, the bruises on the rest of his body fading.

They had warned him against driving, but he didn’t listen. He needed to get home before the Mayor had time to scold him.

What ended up waiting for him at home was more mandatory bed rest and short walks. Night had called him in a panic one day when he was sitting in his office, right on the two week mark of his encounter with Fear.

_ “I’m calling a meeting. Your house. The 14th of December is what looks like it’ll work,” he quickly rambled, not even saying hello to Ricky. _

_ “If I may ask, what the hell went down over there?” _

_ “They took Mia,” Night informed Ricky of the news, a deep level of sadness in his voice. _

_ “The fuck??” Ricky questioned, thinking  _ ‘did I take one too many pain pills today?’.

_ “They caught her outside the grocery store. She was on a late run for the office, and they took her. Pay attention, I’m really sad too, but we really need to focus on having a plan right now. I can’t lose anybody else in my higher ranks. Be ready for the meeting.” _

Ricky hadn’t thought much about the meeting until the day before it happened. They were pretty regular, maybe two to four times a year. He was getting his stitches out, thinking quietly to himself. He had his arm lifted so that the doctor had access to his side.

“What happened? We generally don’t see many guys like you here with this many stitches and a healing cut on their chest,” the doctor questioned, chuckling to himself.

“Oh, just an unfortunate accident in the garden. You should see the other bush,” Ricky tried to joke.

“Yeah, happens to the best of us,” the doctor started his laugh again, pulling on gloves.

It took longer than Ricky thought, but he ended up having a good idea during the waste of time. He’d really just wanted the Mayor to take them out, but he said ‘there were too many’ and that Ricky needed ‘actual medical help, not an old butler’.

Ricky pulled his shirt and vest back on with a little bit of help getting his vest on. He got his jacket without any help, heading to the precinct.

He walked through the door, searching for a head of red hair.

Anne was sitting at her desk, Ricky walked up with a confident smile.

“Hi Anne, what are you up to today?”

She blushed, recognizing the smooth voice and staring up into a pair of deep brown eyes lit up in a smile, and she stuttered for a minute before formulating enough of a response.

“Uhhh, hi there Richard! What brings you here today?”

“Ricky, please. I was going to ask a few things to my favorite employee here,” Ricky said, putting on the charming bachelor act again.

“Oh, sure! I’d love to give you a few answers,” she giggled.

“Okay, first, how are you today?”

She kept giggling and responded, “I’m fine, how are you?”

“Better now that I’m here, will you do a slight favor for me? Nothing too big, of course. You do already have so much work here.”

“Of course! What can I help you with?” she immediately responded.

“Can I talk to the good old Captain for a minute, then we can grab a soda at Mr. M’s? That is, if it is possible in your planner.”

“Oh, for you? He loves to talk to you and your friends, you tell the best stories, or so he says,” Anne responded, a giddy smile still on her face, “Just go down the hallway.”

He walked away, following the somewhat familiar path to Captain Saunders’ office, passing by the opportunity to stop and see Tinsley. He definitely wouldn’t appreciate that.

He tapped on the door, met with a loud “Come in!”

Captain Saunders was sitting at his desk and enjoying what looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh hi Ricky! My favorite, non-ominous citizen! Got any stories for today?”

“Hello, Captain Saunders. Sadly, I just have a concern to bring to your attention today, about one of your employees.”

“Yeah? Lemme guess, that secretary hit on you again. I’ll have a good chat with her if that’s the case,” he said, his eyes going serious.

“No, it’s about your detective. I just checked in on him and he hasn’t slept in a week. That doesn’t make for productive detective work in my opinion,” Ricky put a level of somewhat real concern into his voice, as he  _ was _ slightly concerned when Claire had told him that Tinsley hadn’t slept in nearly a week.

“Yeah, you’ve got a real point there. Lemme go talk to him,” Saunders began, making a move to get out of his chair.

“No, no, let him finish the workday. But if he’s here past 8, tell him to leave. Give him the day off tomorrow in case he falls asleep and can’t make it to work,” Ricky calmly explained.

“Oh, that’s a better idea. Means I don’t have to get out of my seat for a little while longer. Well, thank you for your concern and excellent suggestion, citizen, have a nice evening Ricky. Sunset’s gonna be pretty tonight.”

“Yeah,” Ricky responded, shutting at the door and walking back out, putting the charm and smile on when he walked out the hallway opening.

“Don’t think I forgot about my previous question either,” Ricky said, now back at Anne’s desk.

She looked him directly back in the eyes as she scrambled to get her bag and coat, “See you Frankie I gotta go for the night. You should be able to handle the last 5 minutes of the shift alone. No groundbreaking things happen in the last 5 minutes anyways.”

-

Ricky walked out the door, internally groaning after his interaction in the soda shop with Anne. He drove her home, as a gentleman should, then sped to the pier to watch the sunset alone.

It was a pretty one, the Captain had been right. Ricky regretted not bringing his camera with him, but that would look suspicious to people passing by.

He took out his pocket watch after he waited for the sun to go all the way down, walking back to his car.

It was time to pay the detective a visit.

-

Tinsley was awoken the next morning, after the sun had risen, by a nip on the ear. Buddy was getting rather peckish, and Tinsley had not woken up to feed him yet.

He fed Buddy quickly, taking a full shower. He left his hair wet, pulling on another one of his white shirts and a pair of black slacks. He made the effort to put a tie on when he had to leave.

The drive to the Manor was already too familiar for Tinsley’s liking, the crunch of their gravel driveway, and gleaming white stone of the house. The iron gates were always open when he came to call, and Tinsley wondered if they were always open like that.

There were already some cars in the driveway, at least four by Tinsley’s count. He stepped up the porch, knocking on the door with confidence. The Mayor answered.

“How come Ricky can’t answer his own door for once? He’s the one who wants me over here all the time,” Tinsley demanded, still exhausted.

“Mister Goldsworth is quite busy, and the house is quite big if you haven’t noticed. He’s waiting for you in the dining room. Not all of the guests have arrived yet.”

“Haven’t heard that spiel before, I can find my way back, thanks.”

Tinsley walked past the Mayor, back to the dining room. Night had taken the seat at the head of the table, Ricky a woman by his side. There were three men across from them, two more seats remaining open.

Ricky got up from his seat, plainly greeting him, “Tinsley.”

  
  


Tinsley took a seat at the end of the table, the opposite side as Ricky. Night gave him a nod as he took his seat. The other two guests arrived together, Banjo and another woman, who was not Francesca. Banjo looked like he was sorrowful about something, as did everyone in the room. Night headed up the table with a solemn and graceful air, no sorrow exuding from his presence, just cold calm.

Ricky had a poker face on, no sorrow showing in his face, but not much else either. He looked bored, if Tinsley was being honest with himself. Night stood, addressing the room.

“Welcome everyone. I’m sure you all know why you are here today, but to remind you, we are discussing the Fear issue. You may have noted the loss of three familiar faces at the table and the addition of one unfamiliar face. Tinsley, please stand up. This is Tinsley, he has been recruited in our search temporarily.”

Tinsley gave a little wave to everyone in the room, Night waiting for him to sit back down.

“So what is it that you plan to do?” the woman seated next to Ricky asked.

“We will find Fear, bring him back, and Ricky here will take good care of him,” Night stated simply.

“Now, on the subject of Doc’s disappearance, it appears we have a mole among you fine ladies and gentlemen. Tinsley and Ricky are the only two safe faces I see at this table, as all of you were present the day she was taken,” he explained calmly, a dark look on his face, “Now tell me, Tinsley, you ever spotted a traitor before?”

“Not that I can remember, I don’t deal with a lot of groups, mostly one on one questioning,” Tinsley blandly and nervously answered.

“Well, the way I see it, all of you are the mole,” he started to slowly circle the table, “None of you are fessing up, and none of you are helping to find them. But, I do have a very special surprise for the mole today. Miss B, would you come out for a moment?”

A woman in a light blue dress walked out, clearly unaware of the tone of the room.

“Miss B works for the telephone company, and she transfers all of the calls for our building. And she has a very good memory, rest assured. She’s going to help me find the mole today, and she knows what will happen if she lies.”

The sunny woman took control of the room, Ricky standing up to take his place by Night. He pulled a fancy pistol out of a holster around his waist.

“I have the conversation on this recorded tape, and Ricky here has a device to play it right on this little trolley. I’m gonna push play after each of you says your name.”

The first few went by rather quickly, the person standing up and saying the name with no problem. Then Tinsley’s side of the room started, the second man standing up and trying to make a run for it. Ricky rolled his eyes and fired two rounds directly at the man, putting him out of his misery a few seconds later. He returned to his seat.

“Good to know, good to know. Anyone else betrays me like that, and I can promise you that something much worse will happen to you. I have had to deal with two moles this year, after all. Say hi to everyone, Jay,” Night explained, stopping back at his seat and sitting down.

Tinsley thought he might be sick when Jay raised up a wrist, hand completely gone. Well, at least Tinsley knew where the hand came from now.

“On a few final notes before we begin dining, our operative Francesca Norris is not dead or missing, she just went temporarily undercover in the state of Arizona. And I want everyone to know; stop me from finding Fear and I will personally stop your heart from beating,” he ended on a partially chipper note, the mayor placing plates down at every spot.

Lunch continued as a lunch usually would, but silent. He would occasionally catch Ricky staring at him, not glaring, or doing anything menacing, simply staring. The meeting came to a conclusion when all the plates were empty, going on a silver cart and being carted off to the kitchen. The guests paid their respect to their leader, and even Ricky joined them. Once all of the cars were off of the gravel, Ricky gestured for those remaining to follow him.

“C’mon, let’s go to my office to discuss this.”

Tinsley still felt a simmering dislike in his stomach, a slow cooking rage that he still felt for Ricky. Night, he wasn’t so sure about yet. He’d have to see.

Once Night and Tinsley were in chairs, Ricky shut the door and poured three glasses of expensive looking whiskey.

“Isn’t it a little early to drink this?” Tinsley quipped.

“No, just take it. Drinking in moderation is fine,” Ricky snapped back.

“Just give me the low down on the situation so that I can leave please.”

Before Ricky could say anything, Night cut in, “Girls, girls, you’re both pretty. I have a file for you in my car, but it’s just direct information about Fear. Would you like to know why he’s being found?”

Tinsley gave a slight nod, Ricky taking back his speaking ability, “Well he’s taken two of Night’s closest employees, and started to challenge Night in a wild fanatical grasp for power. He’s started to gain just a few followers, but we need to crush them before they gain hope. To put it shortly.”

Tinsley sat there for a moment, throwing back the rest of the whiskey in one go.

“Let me get that file, and I can get out of your hair.”

Night led them down the stairs, Ricky still struggling a little bit, leaving the pair with goodbyes at the porch. He walked back inside, leaving Tinsley and Night to talk.

“Sorry about your employee friends. That’s pretty sad,” Tinsley decided.

“I need to present myself as unfazed, formulate a plan on what the hell I’m going to do about this, and all without the only two I can actually trust to have good ideas and trust them with mine. Running two companies is hard without a partner. Especially when you have a late night deal but then you have some idiot who stole something to defend the next day in court.”

“Wait,  _ you’re a lawyer? And a mob boss? _ ” Tinsley questioned, now very impressed and confused at the same time.

“Yes, but I prefer the term ‘overseer of criminal activity’. I’m not like any of the actual hotshot bosses in Vegas, I just run a small service on the down low. I look after my own,” Night put on his pair of sunglasses that had been stowed in his pocket, “But try and snitch on me, and I will sue the pants off of you. Doesn’t matter if you’ve never done anything, I’ll find something. No torture required, but equally as life ruining.”

Tinsley remained in silence until Night handed him the file, and he parted ways with the man with a muttered ‘goodbye’.

What had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in, I hope to see you next week. I hope you are enjoying the tale so far, and as always leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed.


	18. Mama Mia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and Tinsley are back at it again looking for Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey welcome back everyone! Hope all of you have had a decent week, and I hope that all of you will enjoy this regardless! We’re in the final stretch here, I think. I love all of you and the support you’ve been giving me, and thanks for liking the book!

It had only been a week into this regrettable partnership when Tinsley woke to a strange occurrence in his apartment. The smell of breakfast wafted through the hallway at 8am, earlier than Tinsley ever would have risen on his own. Buddy had been missing from his bed as well, and he grunted as he straightened his sleep pants. He grabbed his pistol from his nightstand as he wandered into the kitchen, sunshine streaming through his open blinds. 

He peeked around the hallway corner, stepping fully out with his gun.

“Hands in the air whoever you are! I’m armed and not afraid to shoot!”

A familiar face stepped away from the stove, where he could hear the sounds of cooking happening. He appeared behind the bar, hands sarcastically raised in the air.

“Woah Tinman, no need to thank me. Just making breakfast for my favorite detective.”

Ricky, unsurprisingly, was already fully dressed in a grey waistcoat, and pants, shoes and socks colored black. He sported no tie, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal a very simplistic watch around his wrist. Tinsley spotted no gun on his person, or on the counters he could see. His hair was done in its usual shiny style.

“Why are you in my house?! Again!” Tinsley questioned, raising his still groggy voice.

“Geez why don’t you get dressed and have a cup of coffee, I’ll explain after I get the bacon. Or would you rather continue this conversation like… that,” Ricky gestured to the detective, who was still in striped pajama bottoms and a stained white t-shirt.

He walked back to the stove while Tinsley took a deep breath in, sighing loudly when he got to the bathroom. Buddy had decided to follow him into the bathroom.

“Some guard cat you are.”

Buddy meowed indignantly, turning back around to the kitchen. Tinsley made a move to his sink, splashing his face with some cold water from the sink, running whatever was left in his hands through his hair. He walked into his room and got into his work uniform, as he had to go into the precinct today. He tightened the black tie around his neck.

“You like your coffee plain black, right?” a yell chimed from the kitchen, Tinsley deciding not to respond.

He walked back into the kitchen with his gun still drawn.

“Now would you care to tell me what the hell you’re doing here? I haven’t forgotten about the last time you were here, and I’m not feeling particularly nice.”

Ricky was plating scrambled eggs with freshly melted cheese, sprinkling green onions on top. Bacon and toast with strawberry jam had already made their way onto the plate as well.

“Well, I had something to tell you, and it couldn’t wait until when you woke up this afternoon,” Ricky explained, reaching for where Tinsley’s mugs were stored.

“What could possibly be  _ that  _ important, and why did you feel breakfast was necessary?”

“I felt it to be  _ polite,  _ detective. Why did you store your mugs so high? Not all of us are giants, you know.”

Tinsley walked into the kitchen, invading the space of the shorter man. He easily grabbed one mug down, placing it on the counter. He took a step back and crossed his arms.

“That’s my cup. If you want one, you’re going to tell me why you found it appropriate to break into my apartment to share some information with me.”

Ricky responded by taking both plates to the table, he sighed loudly, realizing that Tinsley wasn’t joking.

“Fine, I have news about Fear and it would be a smart idea to leave as quickly as possible before he catches wind that I found out where he is. He’ll be there until Christmas, which gives us four days to get there and take him down.”

Tinsley reluctantly got another mug down, filling Ricky’s cup with water. Ricky rolled his eyes, accepting both cups to take to the table.

“Fear? What about him? And why only four days? Christmas  _ Eve _ is four days away, after all.”

“I pinpointed a location with Fran’s help, she took some extra time on her recon mission to pick up a package and a piece of information for me. She called me with the info yesterday, and she should check in at the manor with the package today. And I have to be back at the Manor for Christmas. My mom’s coming the day after Christmas to avoid the rush, but I have a Christmas Eve ball to host and a Christmas Day to spend with my ‘family’.”

Tinsley ate in silence for a minute, finishing off his eggs and toast together.

“You’re welcome to join, of course,” Ricky slightly purred, “But you do need to be packed by this afternoon. We’re headed to Santa Fe. I booked a train, of course, to avoid you ditching me at a hospital with my car again.”

“Well, I had no intentions of assuring the safety of a serial killer. Especially when he has been in hiding for so long.”

“You really need to get past that, but I do have something for you,” Ricky said, reaching into his pocket.

_ Please don’t be the location of another body. Or a gun,  _ Tinsley quickly thought to himself, taking a deep drink from his coffee mug. He’d have to ask Ricky how he makes the stuff, it was definitely better than whatever watery crap he makes himself.

It was an envelope, black with gold ink and a gold wax seal on it.

“Not from the Golden Hour Killer, just Ricky.”

“Oh, like that reassures me,” Tinsley rolled his eyes, peeling open the wax seal.

There were two things inside the envelope, one of the red cards he’d gotten in his masquerade invitation, and a black card with golden writing on it.

_ You’re Invited _

_ The Goldsworths Annual Christmas Eve Ball _

_ Location: The Manor _

_ Time: 5pm-12am _

_ Drinks and Food will be provided. Dress is formal. _

Ricky had signed at the bottom of the paper, Tinsley set the handful down on the table, taking his plate to the sink and quickly washing it.

“Are you going to tailor another suit for me if I come?”

Ricky let out a chuckle, “Would you accept if I said yes?”

Tinsley finished his coffee and dismissed his guest.

“Goodbye Ricky. I’ll see you this afternoon, ring me before you pick me up. You have the numbers.”

“If you insist, dear detective. See you later this afternoon,” Ricky said, a dramatic wave and a smile decorating his person, he pulled on a red scarf and black jacket.

Tinsley listened to him shut the door, cheerily humming a Christmas song. It was hard to imagine him as a killer, but Tinsley had done harder things before. He walked to grab his suitcase asking himself why he was doing this for the hundredth time. He did hate Ricky after all, didn’t he? He’d lied, killed, and so much more.

If they caught Fear, he might not even get to host that little party of his. Maybe Tinsley could make a public arrest at that party, that would be quite the spectacle. He grabbed another mug of coffee and set towards his room after placing his suitcase on the kitchen table. Ricky had left his plate, Tinsley moving the plate to the counter for the time being.

He folded three shirts in his room, followed by two pairs of pants, then some socks, underwear, a couple ties, and his bathroom items. He expected that Ricky would be bringing the food since this was so last minute, again. He packed up his grey luggage, setting it down by the handle.

He’d be working from home today as he was expecting a call.

-

Ricky had driven back to the manor to discover Fran’s light blue car in the driveway. He pulled into the garage and walked into the house, hearing piano music drift from the front parlor. It was a simplistic duet, and Ricky jumped at listening to the four handed melody.  _ Could that mean… _

He ran to the parlor, discovering Banjo instead of who he’d thought to be seated at the piano.

“Oh hi there Ricky! We’d wondered when you would be getting back. Banjo and I did have to make a drop off by the hospital,” Francesca beamed from where she sat on the piano.

“I take it things went well on the retrieval then. Sounds like everything will be right on time,” Ricky sighed, “Will you be staying at the Manor until the Christmas festivities begin? Or do you wish to return to your own home for 3 days.”

“Yes, and the tailor called. He said he’d be here by ten, Night already sent in his request for the season,” Fran continued, stepping away from the piano.

“Better give that guy a hefty tip,” Banjo chuckled, following his girlfriend.

“I always do, he does work very hard after all. Your dress and suit should be done today, that’s why he is coming over. He also has my two deliveries, and Night’s stuff as well.”

“How can you even be sure that Tinsley is coming?”

“I like to be prepared,” Ricky huffed, flopping down on an old fainting couch.

Fran quickly cut back into the conversation, “And speaking of preparedness, you and the Mayor did splendidly decorating just about every inch of this place for Christmas! Me and Banjo are excited to see the full effect at the ball.”

“Thanks Fran,” Ricky chimed in, hearing the doorbell ring.

He walked tiredly to the front door, pulling out his wallet.

The tailor stood at the door, two large bags in his hand. Ricky’s face lit up, thinking of the expert craftsmanship that lay in each bag.

“Hello Mike! Excited to see what you whipped up this time, how much do I owe you?”

“Hello Mr. Goldsworth, I’m so glad to have worked with such a creative mind again! You really do have brilliant designs, it’s always a pleasure to bring them into existence. It’ll be a nice round 1,250 dollars for you,” the man at the door happily grinned.

Ricky started to pull cash out of his wallet, “Thank you! You’re the best bespoke tailor I know, and it’d be a shame if I had to resort to someone else.”

The two men exchanged the objects in their hands, Ricky thanking Mike one more time before shutting the door with his foot. He placed his own bag on the entryway table for the Mayor to go through and place in closets or on mannequins.

He took Fran and Banjo’s bag to them, Fran already pulling out her half of the cost. Ricky pulled out the receipt, looking over Fran and Banjo’s costs.

“I’ll pay for half of your dress and a quarter of his suit, so that’ll balance out to be,” he paused for a minute, pulling a pen out of his pocket to do some math on the small paper, “330.”

“Ricky, you don’t have to do that,” Fran told him sincerely.

“It’s fine, consider it an extra Christmas present. It’s only a couple hundred dollars.”

“If you insist,” Fran said, returning the remaining cash to her wallet.

-

A couple hours later, Tinsley once again threw his suitcase to the back seat of Ricky’s car, only to follow the piece of luggage. The Mayor would be driving them to the train station.

“You all packed?”

“Yes, what time’s the train?”

“We’ll be on time,” Ricky curtly responded.

They drove in silence, stopping 10 minutes later at the station. Ricky quickly walked ahead, Tinsley going to follow before the Mayor’s hand stopped him.

“You watch out for him. Thank you for even agreeing to help him, by the way.”

Tinsley walked into the station, closely following Ricky.

“Which platform’s ours?”

“It’s number seven, and I can take my bag if you want,” Ricky said.

“No, you have the tickets.”

Ricky in turn presented their tickets to the conductor of a train that looked about ready to pull out of the station.

“Thank you kindly gentlemen, the entrance is to my right.”

They boarded the train and got settled without a word between the two of them. The awkward silence was only broken with the turning of a page by Tinsley, or when one of them got up to use the restroom. A woman came by to offer drinks every couple hours. They ate dinner with the bare minimum said in the noisy food cart, Ricky agreeing to pay the check.

Sleep offered a break from the totally awkward silence, before the same routine continued the next day.

The train stopped at the station at noon, Tinsley glad to not have to resort to sleep for peace.

-

They arrived at their hotel in equal silence, Ricky walking up to the receptionist with a smile.

“Hello there, how can I help you two gentleman?”

“We would like to rent a room for one night,” Ricky took charge in getting the hotel, as he had with the train and the taxi. Tinsley didn’t really care anyways, he just wanted to get this over with.

“Two queens?”

“Yes, and how much will that be?”

Ricky forked over the necessary cash and the two walked to their room. Tinsley had carried both bags again, despite Ricky’s protests at the station, then again when they got out of the taxi.

Ricky immediately headed for the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes and a small bag. Tinsley heard the shower turn on a minute later.

Tinsley let his mind wander away from his book for a moment, letting tan skin and good coffee work their way into his thoughts, but then he turned his attention back to his book, mentally slapping himself on the forehead.

Ricky had slightly unpacked when he walked out of the bathroom, looking fresh as ever. His hair was already dried and done, his clothes did not fit the feeling of ‘Ricky Goldsworth’. He wore a plain pair of overalls, white t-shirt, and sneakers. He was almost unrecognizable.

“I’m going on a stakeout for the rest of the day. I’ll pick up takeout on my way back, any requests?”

“No,” Tinsley quickly responded. He had no interest in looking the a place over. He wanted to do some snooping of his own while Ricky was gone.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, we’ll discuss what the plan for tomorrow is when I get back,” Ricky said plainly, putting on a pair of sunglasses that matched the outfit.

He left the room without another word. Tinsley waited for about thirty minutes before getting up from his own bed. He walked over to the bathroom first, checking the small bag he’d brought in. It was just a small collection of travel sized hygiene stuff, so he moved onto Ricky’s suitcase, which was much larger than Tinsley’s.

It was a couple disguises, some more typical ‘Ricky’ clothes, with various weapons scattered throughout the belongings. There was a set of throwing knives with one missing (he’d assumed Ricky had taken it), a silver pistol, a couple pieces of thinner rope, and layered between two white collared shirts was the most beautiful knife Tinsley had laid eyes upon.

The blade was a dark steel, the sharp part glinting pure glittery gold. A gold band separated the dark steel from a dark wood handle. The gold band had the initials R. G. professionally engraved into the metal in a cursive which he assumed to be Ricky’s own hand. It was perfectly cleaned, sharpened, and still in pristine condition from what he assumed to be ‘out of the box’ new. But Tinsley knew that it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. He whipped it out every time he had to threaten someone or defend himself with such familiarity.

The pistol also had a rose engraved into the barrel. Ricky seemed to have a thing for customized weaponry. He probably designed the knife himself.

Tinsley put all of the things back in their place, accidentally knocking a photograph from the top of the suitcase, where postcards and some strange clips of newspapers were held together by stamps and stickers. There was a business card too, one with a logo that Tinsley didn’t recognize at all. It looked fancy, but the tattered edges told him it was either frequently removed and looked at, old, or both.

It was a black and white photo of a family, husband, wife, and son. He looked into the picture, the well dressed figures in black and white. He checked the back for a date.

_ The Goldsworth family - Nov 1936 _

So the boy was Ricky, and his parents were standing behind him. Lucy didn’t look too different, but she appeared happier in this picture. Mister Goldsworth wasn’t too glad to be in the photo, but his eyes still showed a sense of joy and pride. Ricky was missing some teeth from his very large smile, he looked to be about ten. They looked like a happy family. What had happened to that?

He tucked the photo back where he thought it would go, and shut the case again. Informative, but in the wrong way. He’d have to look into the card, however. Tinsley tucked back into his book, waiting for Ricky’s return.

He came back hours later with a brown paper bag. He plopped it onto the small table in the ‘kitchenette’ that they had been given.

“Eat up. I’ll explain what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Tinsley made his way towards the table, opening the bag to discover a plain cheeseburger and fries. Ricky had also picked him up a drink, a bottle of coke that had some sips out of it already. He eyed the bottle suspiciously.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of sharing a drink. I had a few sips on the way here because I’d spent all day out with nothing to drink, okay?”

Tinsley rolled his eyes and began eating.

“Good. Now, about the plan. We’re going at around this time tomorrow, we’ll sneak in through the sliding door at the side, and since there’s only one floor, we’ll search room by room and have each other’s backs. You bring a weapon?”

Tinsley nodded and swallowed his bite of food.

“Perfect. I’m exhausted, so I’m going straight to bed. See you in the morning, Detective.”

Tinsley followed Ricky a couple hours later after finishing his food, and his copy of Invisible Man.

-

Tinsley woke up a little past noon the next day and started one of Ricky’s copies of Life Magazine. There ended up being some interesting articles about post-war repairs still going on in Europe. 

Ricky arrived back at the hotel with a coffee and shopping bag, almost an hour and a half later.

“Where have you been all morning?”

“Running some final errands, and calling to make sure that my final few deliveries are being made to the Manor for Christmas.”

“And?”

“They’re all there, wrapped, and under the tree.”

A few minutes of awkward silence slipped by the pair, Ricky breaking it, “You’re welcome at the Manor if you want to be there. I know we’re the farthest thing from friends, and you probably hate the shit out of me, but the offer still stands.”

“I was thinking about coming to your party on Christmas Eve with Holly and Claire if they were invited.”

“Really?” Ricky said, eyebrows raised in shock.

Tinsley replied with an exaggerated fake smile on his face, “Yeah, I was thinking I could make a fun evening out of it, go see a Christmas film with them, get ready, go to your party, make a public arrest of the Golden Hour Killer, make some last minute gift deliveries, ya know?”

Ricky smirked, turning around to see the look on the detective’s face.“You wouldn’t arrest a guy on Christmas Eve in his own house, would you?”

Tinsley stared right back at Ricky, “You’d be surprised, I’ve been waiting quite a long time for that moment.”

That shut the shorter man up, returning to their awkward silence for a few hours.

Ricky checked the simple leather band on his arm, getting up from his bed. He rifled through his suitcase, Tinsley noticing him pull the set of throwing knives, the gun, and the beautiful knife out of the suitcase. 

“You know how to throw a knife?”

Tinsley paused for a moment, processing that Ricky was speaking to him, “Oh, no.”

“Pity,” Ricky muttered, putting half the set away.

Ricky called a cab for them outside the hotel, directing the driver along a short route that would have been a ten minute walk maximum. They followed through on Ricky’s side door plan, as it was unlocked.  _ Fear really is a dumbass for having a doctorate,  _ Tinsley thought.

Both of them had their guns drawn, searching each door for any sign of a person, Fear or not. They caught him in a large empty space, real wood on the floors. A surprising contrast to the dark grey on the walls.

“Ah, Goldsworth and Tinsley. My favorite dynamic duo. What brings you around Santa Fe?”

“We love the weather here around this time of year, it’s just peachy,” Ricky sarcastically spat.

“Woah, touchy much? How did the stitches go?”

Ricky didn’t respond, instead taking a few steps further with his gun.

Fear shook his finger at Ricky, much in the way that a teacher would do to a disobedient child, clucking his tongue.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. See, I have a bargaining chip of my own. Sadly, it’s not Tinsley today. He lives to solve another case. Would you like to open that closet door for me, Tinsley?”

“No way is he going anywhere near that door. I’ll get it. Tinsley, keep aim on Dr. superiority complex over here,” Ricky said, walking over to the door Fear had gestured to. Ricky had just begun to turn the doorknob when the door burst open, taking both Ricky and Tinsley’s attention away from Fear and towards the red and black object that barreled out of the closet.

Fear used the temporary change of aim to run past Ricky and Tinsley, knocking the detective over into Ricky, who was toppled by the sudden slamming of a closet door into his forehead followed by a tall detective who had lost his own balance already.

He ran out the door and swerved to the left, Ricky and Tinsley trying to get up as quickly as possible from the pile of limbs they had formed. The red and black clad  _ girl  _ had stopped once she hit a wall. 

She raised her voice, “Ugh. Fine, you got me. No more escaping from me I guess.”

Tinsley had offered Ricky his hand, and was helping the still disoriented small man to his feet when she broke the ropes she’d been trying to break for the past day.

“NEVERMIND,” she yelled, ripping off the bag over her head and pulling out what seemed to be earplugs.

“Mia?” Ricky and Tinsley questioned in unison, Tinsley cringing at the screeching of rubber against the road.

“Oh hi guys, wondered when one of y’all would come here to get me. By the way, where am I?”

She sounded very calm for someone who just got out of a kidnapping.

“We’re in Santa Fe, you’ve been gone for a week and two days,” Tinsley calmly explained, before Ricky cut in abruptly, “Did he hurt you?”

“Thanks dads,” Mia rolled her eyes with a smile and walked towards the door with a slight limp, “I’m fine, I was the auxiliary source of information anyways. Glad y’all got me out when you did though, because Fran got to his primary source from what I heard. Is it true?”

“Yes, Fran succeeded in her mission to take out one of his other hideouts.”

A spark of hope partially died in her eyes, “So where is the bastard? Still haven’t gotten the chance to repay him yet for all of the lovely gifts.”

Ricky and Tinsley looked at each other, Tinsley seemingly more angry than Ricky had expected, “Well, about that.”

“You knocked Ricky over and caused enough of a distraction for him to get away.”

Mia absorbed Tinsley’s curt explanation for a few seconds, “Oh, I’m sorry. I really am. If there’s anything I can help with, just let me know. I’m ready to get my payback as soon as I can.”

“Mia, it’s the 22nd of December and we have a train to catch in three hours. There’s no time for revenge yet,” Tinsley and Ricky took turns trying to finish the sentence gently.

Mia looked dejected as they got back into a cab back to the hotel. Ricky stayed in the cab to go get dinner while Tinsley led them back to the hotel room to pack up.

Mia took care of Ricky’s suitcase and Tinsley his own. Once they were sure they had gotten everything out of the room, they left. Tinsley dropped the key by the front desk, and the two met Ricky outside of the train station. They all enjoyed a fast and cheap burger before the three boarded the train home, sure that this ride wouldn’t be so silent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for tuning in and I hope to see you next week! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, and I’ll see you next week, dear readers! Have a good one!


	19. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that pre-Christmas Turkey day is out of the way for all of my American readers, LET THE HOLIDAY SEASON BEGIN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am in a good mood, today you may have not just one chapter...

Night had been overjoyed to hear the news that Mia was home, giving her a big hug when they had arrived at Goldsworth manor the next morning. Catching the later train did have some merits to it.

Ricky had also gotten a hug, but Tinsley was reluctant to give anything but a handshake.

Tinsley had gone home to feed Buddy, and was met with a happy reception from the cat. He stayed at home for a few minutes, throwing some of his things vaguely where they were supposed to go. He was back to square one on finding Fear, not to say that he wasn’t before Ricky had a lead. He was also back to the times where he couldn’t rely on a confession.

Off to the precinct he went.

-

_ One day later. _

Ricky hustled through the house with another boxful of candles when 3 prompt knocks sounded at his door.

“Mayor!” he shouted, in an attempt to finish his task of delivering the white candles to the ballroom. He received no response.

He let out a loud sigh and put the candles down on the floor, leaving the box in the middle of a hallway. He opened the door to a surprise.

“Anne? What are you doing here?” he questioned in genuine confusion.

“Hi Ricky! I know it’s only Christmas Eve, but I brought some fruitcake and a card,” she explained, gesturing to the tin in her hands with an envelope stuck to one side.

“Oh, thank you, I’m sure it’ll taste great! I do have a party to finish preparing for, so I’ll have to catch up with you some other time,” he said, wanting to get out of a conversation with the chatty receptionist.

“Oh, can I help?” Anne asked, seemingly not wanting to leave.

“Just doing candles, nothing too hard. I should be able to handle it, see you tonight,” Ricky quickly explained. 

“Well, if you’re sure, then I’ll see you tonight!”

He sighed once the door was closed, taking the fruitcake to the kitchen, hurrying out with a wave from the Mayor. The caterers were arriving. 

He got back to his mission of putting candles into their holders; he’d have one of the Mayor’s helpers light them before guests started arriving.

Ricky checked the watch on his wrist, noting that it was 2:30 in the afternoon. He’d have to get ready soon, there always were the people that liked to come ten minutes early. And he’d have to address some of the final duties of the staff, so he would rather be dressed for that.

The ballroom looked to be to his standards, the entryway was cleaned and decorated, as was the parlor, and the larger living room, and practically the whole house, to put it lightly. He went on his final rounds, making sure everything was to the Goldsworth standard of perfection.

“Ricky? I suggest you get dressed, you have to be ready by 4:00,” the Mayor advised, catching Ricky adjusting ornaments on the living room tree for the fifth time that day. “Nobody is allowed in here anyways. This is one of the private parts of the household. The parlors that break off of the ballroom and the ballroom are the only three rooms that you should be worried about.”

“Yes, I suppose I’m just stressed is all,” Ricky sighed.

“What? Everything is fine, you haven’t even looked at your clothes yet. Is this about the detective? He still hasn’t technically held up to his end of the deal yet.”

“I’ll go get dressed.”Ricky announced as he wandered up the stairs.

-

Tinsley got a knock at his own door as he was finishing another terrible wrapping job on one of the few Christmas presents that he’d bought this year. There were four in total, one for Buddy, one for Holly, one for Claire, and one for that butler at the Goldsworths. He deserved a medal for the amount of shit he probably put up with, but a small gift would have to do.

Holly and Claire stood outside his doorway, both wearing light jackets.

“Hey guys, what brings you around here?”

“Don’t be silly, Tinsley,” Claire chimed.

“We know you don’t have people to spend the holidays with, so we want you and Buddy to spend them with us, if you’re okay with that,” Holly added.

Tinsley had spent the last few Christmases alone, so he stood in silence for a moment, Buddy choosing to see who had come to their door. He finally asked, “What do you guys usually do for Christmas?”

“Well, we like to go to the ball, go home and have cocoa, then do presents and lunch the next day,” Claire cheerfully answered.

“I don’t have anything better to do I guess.”

“We’ll meet you at ours, 4:45, don’t be late!”

The two walked off hand in hand, Claire seeming very happy about his response. He was glad they hadn’t asked to come into the house, as Holly’s present still remained unwrapped on the kitchen counter.

It would make delivering the presents faster, and he hadn’t seen them for a little while. It would be nice to spend the holidays with friends, even if it was a sort of choppy schedule.

He went back to trying to wrap his gifts, and managed to finish Holly’s when there was another knock at his door. Through the peephole, he saw no sign of a person. There was a box at the base of the door, sleek black with a small notecard on top.

_ I hope you decided to come, but maybe this will change your mind if not. -RG _

He sighed loudly, placing the box on the table. The lid led way to a thin layer of tissue paper, but below that lay a taupe jacket paired with a formal white shirt. The pants matched the taupe jacket, and the bowtie he found in the box was a deep navy to match the vest. It was a pretty suit, outside the realm of what Tinsley wore every day for sure.

He looked at the clock, deciding to wrap the Mayor’s present quickly before putting the getup on. It certainly didn’t look bad on him, he put on some dark blue socks and the one pair of brown dress shoes he owns. They were a little pinchy at the toes, he’d only worn them a few times to make his parents happy at Easter years ago.

He grabbed his car keys and one of the packages off his counter, making his way towards the stairs, quickly hopping into his car and driving off towards Claire and Holly’s house.

He approached the door, Holly and Claire getting out of the house as he went to knock.

“Hi Tinsley! Ready to go?” Holly interrogated. She was wearing flowy black pants and a white shirt with a scoop neck and long sleeves. Her shoes matched Claires, a simple closed toe kitten heel. They weren’t shiny, but not dull either.

“Yeah, you guys look great by the way,” Tinsley added, observing that Claire matched in a black cocktail dress with long sleeves. A small, red, light jacket decorated her shoulders, and the purse she carried matched. She wore a silver necklace and earrings. Her hair was done up, Holly’s was left down in waves that came just below her shoulders.

“So do you! Love the elbow patches on the jacket,” Claire commented, locking the door before handing the car keys to Holly.

“Yeah Tinsley, didn’t know that you could clean up nice all by yourself,” Holly chuckled.

Tinsley went to check the jacket, he hadn’t noticed the elbow patches on the jacket before.

They separated into their respective cars, Holly and Claire in one and Tinsley in his own. They drove directly to the Manor, seeing the small crowd outside the door, slowly walking through the entryway into the ballroom. 

Tinsley walked in, noting the smells of Christmas all around when he walked him in. The warm aromatic air slapped his face, pine and (somehow) winter, cookies and hot chocolate wafting from another room. The entryway was picture perfect, with real pine garlands and golden tinsel, the colors of Christmas already making their appearance. Red ribbons, candy canes, and ornaments were strung on the garlands.

The ballroom was only more festive, a large tree decorating the center of the room. Fake snow was blown on it, as did the garlands that were strung on railings and doorways. Ornaments shimmered in red and gold, glinting and glimmering in the candlelight, as well as the light of the electric chandelier. Tinsel was scattered on the tree, and popcorn strings wove between the branches. The curtains were the same deep red as Halloween, but they were somehow more comforting and homey. The polished black marble flooring gleamed, the walls changed back to their usual white, wallpaper from the fall season gone. The evening seemed to sparkle itself, joy and Christmas in the air.

It was hard to be mad here. Even harder to imagine who was really behind it all.

The banquet table had an assortment of food on it, desserts covering almost half the table. An impressive gingerbread house lay at the center of a plethora of fresh cookies. Hot chocolate, among other drinks, at their own table.

All the scene needed was snow outside. The orchestra was playing a very cheerful rendition of  _ Let it Snow _ , young people already taking up the dance floor. Ricky was missing from that crowd, and a quick eye scan confirmed that he was off talking to his friends for the moment.

_ He better stay that way,  _ Tinsley thought, not wanting his Christmas mood to be ruined. 

“C’mon Tinsley, Claire loves this song! You should have a dance with her, I’m gonna go grab drinks,” Holly nudged Tinsley off with Claire, headed for the drink table.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” Tinsley warned, trying to look Claire in the eye.

“That’s okay! You don’t even have to know an official dance, just have fun with it,” she chirped, showing him how to do a few basic moves.

They ended up staying on the dance floor for almost three songs, Tinsley actually starting to enjoy himself. Holly came back somewhere through the second song, waiting with three glasses on the side of the dance floor. They joined her, Tinsley choosing the glass of eggnog, earning a glare from Holly.

“How can you like that stuff? First coffee, now eggnog? Bleh.”

“It's tasty,” Claire and Holly said in unison.

“It’s not, but you guys say what you want, I’ll just keep the truth in my brain where nobody else can hear it until they’re ready to believe it.”

He saw the Mayor dropping off another plate of food, and he quickly made his way over, exclaiming, “See you guys in a minute. I have to go take care of this!”

He pulled a small, poorly wrapped package out of his jacket. The Mayor was turning to go to the kitchen, seeing Tinsley quickly walking towards him. He paused, standing by the door for a moment.

“Hey, I wanted to get you something for all the shit you probably put up with in this house. Thanks for always opening the door,” Tinsley explained, quickly handing over the package.

“Thank you, Mister Tinsley. Have a merry Christmas, and enjoy the party,” the Mayor replied, a spark of joy lacing his small smile. He went back to the kitchen, Tinsley hearing him yell at a now terrified staff member that walked out with the wrong plate.

He enjoyed his evening with Holly and Claire, hopping back onto the dance floor multiple times, going to the banquet table for a very filling dinner. He didn’t know if it was the caterers, the Mayor, or both, but the Goldsworth house always had the most amazing food, and that extended to cookies now apparently. The drinks were also expertly mixed, the Christmas punch being Tinsley’s second favorite, losing the race to the eggnog.

They were having a friendly chat, just outside the dance floor, when they heard the orchestra stop for a moment longer than what was usual. The sun had been down for hours, all the glitter and shine of the night now on full display all across the ballroom. Some of the candelabras had gotten replacement candles at this point in the evening.

Tinsley went to go refill drinks. He heard a voice from the microphone while his back was turned to the orchestra.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen. This is the part of the night where we give our orchestra players some dinner and a drink, then release them. Give it up for these lovely entertainers,” Ricky paused tolet the partygoers clap for a moment. “In their place, please welcome first to the floor, Mia Reyes accompanied by Francesca Norris!”

A small round of applause sounded through the room as Francesca stepped onto the stage in her deep emerald evening gown. The sleeves were short and the material reached her ankles in an a-line skirt, a pair of shiny black heels adorning her feet. She chose a black metallic color to be her belt and jewelry, onyx gems shining from her necklace. Mia was in a red gown in a similar style to Fran, but hers came down to her knees with a cap sleeve, and she wore a simple gold chain necklace and her hair up in a curly hairstyle. Her shoes were a pair of black flats, and they made a quiet patter as she stepped up to the mic.

Mia sang  _ Santa Baby  _ and  _ I’ll be Home for Christmas.  _ Fran joined her and they sang a duet of  _ Sleigh Ride.  _ After a short but genuine applause, a small children’s choir got up on stage. They sang  _ Jingle Bells and Silent Night _ , like every other children’s choir, and  _ Here Comes Santa Claus _ . He clapped and took another drink. They finished on  _ Winter Wonderland. _

Ricky stepped onto the stage again, a person trailing behind him to set up a chair. A mahogany guitar rested in his arms. A shimmering golden tie cut through his ensemble, matching the chain to his pocket watch. His shirt was black, as were his pants and jacket, though his jacket hung from the back of the chair. The front side to his black waistcoat was decorated with a golden damask pattern in the front. The buttons had shiny pieces of onyx on them to match his tie pin. His hair was done in its usual shiny style, slicked back slightly. 

“I’ll be the last performer for tonight, and goodness it’s already almost 11:40. I’m gonna slow things down a little, looking at all you couples out there,” he said, winking slightly at Tinsley, unnoticed by the crowd because the single girls had begun to gather around the edges of the dance floor if they couldn’t find a partner.

He sat back down and adjusted the microphone. His fingers began to strum a somewhat familiar melody to Tinsley, as he began singing.

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” he began smoothly, Tinsley noted that he has an excellent singing voice, “Jack Frost nipping at your nose.”

The tempo was just a little bit slower than the version Tinsley had heard on the radio, but Ricky sounded much better than the guy on the radio anyway. He strummed the guitar and Tinsley let himself get lost in the harmony of it all. Ricky’s voice was the perfect complimentary to the notes on the guitar.

He stopped, finishing the song, pausing before asking, “Do I have any snow lovers in the room?”

Tinsley sarcastically raised his hand, but truth be told he actually did love the snow. A few other various forms of agreement chimed through the room. He looked at Tinsley, an ‘I knew it’ look on his face.

“Well I don’t like the snow much, I hate the cold. But no matter how little snow I encounter, or how much I avoid the cold, the idea of a white Christmas has always been a little dream of mine,” he said, music flowing from his guitar once again.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know. Where the treetops glisten-“

Tinsley almost got absorbed in this song too before Claire dragged him onto the floor, beginning to do a simple dance with the rest of the crowd.

“Claire!”

“Oh shush, just remember what you learned on Halloween, have a little fun Tinsley.”

Tinsley quickly checked his footing before remembering what Ricky had told him, immediately looking up and trying to find some different focus points around the room. He tried to feel out the beat of the music. His footing wasn’t perfect, but it did work, and he was able to follow along to the four beat melody.

Ricky began the last verse, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white.”

He and Claire danced through  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,  _ Holly joining them when Fran, Mia, and Night got up on stage with him to sing a quartet of  _ Silver Bells _ . The three left the stage. Ricky stayed by the mic and addressed his guests.

“Thank you all for coming, everyone that decided to come, but it is nearly midnight, and you should spend tomorrow with your family, not sleeping. Christmas to me has always been spent with those you’re closest to in life, and I wish the same for every one of my guests. Whether that’s family, friends, or even just a pet, I wish every one of you a Happy Holiday with the ones you love most. I have had such a fun evening, and I hope all of you feel the same. Grab some cookies on your way out, we still do have some, and for the young children I know that some of you have at home, it makes for a nice holiday surprise. Have a lovely evening and a Merry Christmas or Happy Holiday everyone!”

His speech was met with another round of applause, and Holly, Claire, and Tinsley made their way out of the ballroom. Tinsley snuck a few cookies, and right before he left the ballroom, an arm stopped him.

“Tinsley!”

Mia had grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the room.

“I have this for you, don’t open it until tomorrow,” Mia instructed, handing him a nicely wrapped box that was stored under her other arm. “Have a Merry Christmas Tinsley.”

“Oh, uhhh, thank you,” Tinsley stuttered out, “I feel bad I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“Don’t sweat it, it’s not anything super big anyways,” Mia responded quickly, “Oooor, you could give me a hug. That’s always a nice present.”

“Sure,” Tinsley let out, still awkward about this whole thing. He gave her a quick, stiff hug, “I liked your singing by the way, but I have to go now. Merry Christmas!”

“Thank you, enjoy your Christmas, Tinsley.”

He got into his car and made his own way home, as Holly and Claire had already left the Manor. It was a little nippy out, but nothing he hadn’t felt in Illinois or Oregon before. He did miss the snow that southern California lacked in abundance.

Buddy was very happy that he was home. He got a head scratch as Tinsley looked into the fridge. He placed Mia’s gift on the counter, making sure that the green bow stayed on top. He read the tag,  _ From Mia _ . 

“You had dinner, and you can’t have cookies because chocolate, but let’s see if I have any cold cuts left from the last week’s lunches,” he reassured.

Buddy ended up getting some pieces of ham, as a Christmas Eve treat. Tinsley went to go take a late hot shower, then he went to read for a little with a glass of his favorite cheap whiskey. He chose to reread a little bit of A Christmas Carol, laying down in his bed after the whiskey was gone. He turned off the lamp when he finished the short book, Buddy snuggling up to him.

-

Ricky did a little bit of party cleanup. Okay, well a lot of party cleanup. He was waiting for a knock on his door anyways, so helping the staff for a minute wasn’t going to kill him.

The staff had cleaned up all of the food and drink, and done dishes, which was amazing, so all Ricky did was clean up candles and take care of the little things.

The caterers had gone home by 11:50, the rest by 12:30 on Christmas Day. He got the knock at 12:45, when Night was already in his bed and asleep.

“Hi, sorry the hospital held me up,” the person at his door explained.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it, can I give you a hug though? It’s been so long, and we’ve missed you,” Ricky said. The person nodded and they embraced for a moment, a sling making it slightly awkward.

“Okay, I’ll quickly show you to your room, and you need to stay there until me, Fran, or Banjo comes to get you,” Ricky quickly explained, “Or the Mayor. He’ll be by in the morning with breakfast and fresh clothes too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a kudos or comment! I really appreciate reading all of your statements! We’re getting closer to the end day by day. Might start updating twice a week because this break I’ve been able to get a TON of writing done.


	20. Christmas at the Goldsworths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presents!! Also,,,, check the relationship tags ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not two....

Ricky had slept very soundly that night, happy that all of his plans were falling into place, in more ways than one. His business plans were starting to come together in a letter his informant had delivered him the day of his return, and his last gift had arrived. Well, it was more of a team effort gift.

He woke up almost an half hour earlier than everyone in the house, setting towards the kitchen to make his signature Christmas Day cinnamon rolls. He’d modified a basic recipe from some magazine to include chocolate chips and extra flaky dough that still retained the stickiness of a classic cinnamon roll.

He finished rolling up the dough and placing the pan in the oven when Fran joined him, standing at the counter while he placed the rolls ready to be baked into a pan.

“Is the package here?”

“Yeah, arrived about when you said it would. Thank you and Banjo for your help on that one. I can only do so much and the detective is quite the worrisome item on my plate right now. I’m glad you were able to get some free favors from me too. It’s been too long since I was able to help you and Banjo out, favor owed or not,” Ricky sincerely noted.

“It’s no problem, I thought it would be a good collaborative gift anyways, seeing as how you got all the information. We just had to go pick it up,” Fran chuckled it off.

Ricky placed a full tray in the oven and turned his attention to the cream cheese icing. Fran was allowed to help until she suggested adding food coloring.

“It’ll ruin the aesthetic of a cinnamon roll, Fran!” Ricky had complained, raising his voice just above normal. The Mayor snagged a finger full of frosting when he went into the kitchen.

“Need any help?” he politely offered.

“No, I’ve got it under control, thank you though. We should be ready to eat in about twenty minutes if you’d get the rest of our guests,” Ricky said, struggling to reach a shelf with more chocolate on it.

He stood on his tippy toes and snagged another bag of chocolate chips, adding about half the bag to a pot of cream, milk, and cinnamon on the stove. He stirred the pot while the cinnamon rolls were cooking. People began to come down from their rooms, all looking very groggy in their pajamas.

Ricky and Fran joined them in the clothing trend of the morning. Ricky arranged a small hot chocolate bar on the table. Candy canes, marshmallows, and caramel candies were in small jars, a bowl of freshly whipped cream with a spoon fresh out of the fridge. Ricky snuck an extra two cinnamon rolls off, putting them on separate plates. The Mayor walked away with one plate before coming back to the scene moments later, everyone now digging into the frosting covered rolls.

Ricky finished first, as he had to quickly get dressed and run an errand before a certain person arose from slumber, in about four hours if he was lucky.

The Goldsworth house always did presents, no matter what the circumstances were on Christmas Day. Right now, it was only 8 but Ricky really needed to get into out while the detective would still be in a deep enough slumber.

He hopped up from the table, Fran offering to do the dishes with Banjo.

“Hey guys, what if we all went down to the theatre and watched one of the Christmas movies they have on? They’re doing some reruns of old movies, and I know that Mia and Night haven’t been to the theatre here yet,” Ricky suggested, still somewhat in the room.

“Sounds like a plan we can solidify when everyone has woken up, Ricky,” Mia responded, her voice still groggy from sleep. She drank deeply from her mug, which Ricky assumed had only hot chocolate in it. 

Homemade hot chocolate never failed to wake everyone sufficiently for presents. Ricky walked back up to his room and got quickly dressed in a semi casual look, choosing a white shirt and black pants. He threw on a coat and grabbed two packages that lay on his dresser after he did his hair.

He walked out to the garage, choosing to put the top and windows up on his car. The roads were almost empty at this early on Christmas Day, so he made it to the complex relatively easy. He climbed up the fire escape and checked the bedroom window first, finding it unlocked.

_ Stupid detective,  _ Ricky thought, sneaking in. He tried not to disturb the curtains too much. Buddy greeted with a questioning, quiet meow from the foot of Tinsley’s bed. Tinsley was still sleeping soundly, covers somehow still drawn over all of his tall frame. Ricky walked towards the living room, where unsurprisingly no tree was there to put presents under. Presents were on the bar, four total. He saw a box that he’d helped Mia wrap among the four. The other three were messily wrapped and tagged Holly, Claire, and Buddy. He left his own two gifts and card among the mix. He left the plate with a cinnamon roll on it out of the cat’s reach.

Said cat was now following him around, silently padding around the house. Ricky picked him up, whispering to the somewhat chubby tuxedo cat.

“Silly kitty, thanks for not ratting me out. Wish Tinman a Merry Christmas for me, okay?”

He left the cat with a head scratch and a minute or so of sitting and petting it. Exiting through the window, Tinsley still laying asleep, Ricky climbed down the fire escape.

He pulled away from the complex with no problems, picking a few cat hairs off his coat. The traffic on the way back was similar to what he’d arrived with. He cruised back to the manor, slightly cursing the ladder. His side still hurt when he raised his arm above his head at all. He was lucky for it to be healing without infection, and that the scar wouldn’t be too unattractive once it finished healing. If he kept putting the ointment the Mayor had insisted he wore on it.

He got back into the house, Night greeting him at the garage entrance to the manor. He wore grey slacks and a vest in the same grey. He too had ditched a tie and shoes, though he did wear socks.

“Everyone’s dressed and in the living room,” he enthusiastically explained. He was a little happier than Ricky had seen him a couple weeks ago.

They walked to the living room, everyone excitedly waiting on various couches and chairs. Banjo and Fran were snuggling on a couch, Mia sitting on her own chair in a red pair of pants and white blouse. Banjo and Fran wore black slacks and suspenders with deep green bow ties. Both of them had rolled up their sleeves. The Mayor stood by the tree, and a camera was on the side table to his left. He wore what he did everyday. He gave Ricky a subtle thumbs up.

“Hey Ricky! Who’s going to go first this year?” Fran chimed from the couch.

“We’ll go youngest to oldest this year, but the Mayor will go first,” Ricky responded giddily.

Everyone said their age, Mia and Ricky at 27, Fran at 28, and Banjo and Night at 29.

“You’re probably older than me, my birthday’s in June.”

“October, actually.”

Night and Banjo already knew who was older, as they’d both been to at least one birthday celebration of the other’s. 

The Mayor opened his various boxes, a new silver pocket watch from Night, a note and a few new monotone ties from Mia, and a relaxation day kit from Fran and Banjo. He flicked open a wax seal on the envelope that Ricky had given him. Inside was a note and some directions. There was a new spice rack in the kitchen, and plant shelves for their small herb garden.

“Thank all of you for the lovely gifts, I really appreciate each of them. I can’t wait for the opportunity to use each one.” He gave everyone a hug, moving back to his post by the tree with his new pocket watch in place of his old one.

Banjo and Fran got up and grabbed a large basket with many wrapped things in it.

“We decided to just put ours together as one,” Fran explained, handing over the basket.

There was a warm blanket and a pair of equally warm socks from Fran, and first aid supplies from Banjo. She rifled through the various bandages and ointments, stopping when she hit a row of bottles.

“Y’all even got painkillers for me?? Thank you so much! I do hate restocking those, and I’m excited to use the blanket.”

“No problem, Banjo’s talents always have their perks when it comes around Christmas time anyways,” Fran cheerily gave her a hug, Banjo settling for a high five.

The Mayor gave her a pack of sterile rubber gloves and some new scrubs, Ricky got her some authentic Mexican spices, with the help of his mother. Ricky had a second package for Mia under the tree. A colorful painting of a street in Monterrey lay inside the paper.

“Did you paint this? Thank you so much, I love it,” she said, a little choked up.

“Thank Night for knowing you so well, I can only do so much without knowledge,” Ricky replied, giving her a big hug.

Night handed her an envelope, which she promptly ripped open before the Mayor could offer her a letter opener.

There were two lengthy letters that got her even more choked up, and three plane tickets.

“Mexico City?! Thank you guys so much! I’m assuming that Legs had a say in this, that is,” she gushed, tears now streaming down her face.

“Yeah, me and Legs were planning this little vacation for you for a little while, and we do have some activities and places and stuff for when we actually get there. The flight is booked for mid-January,” Night added from the couch, getting a little choked up himself at the mention of Legs.

She squeezed Night so hard Ricky would’ve sworn that he was about to explode or break a rib.

“Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!”

“Mine first,” Mia picked up her gift to Ricky, wiping the remainder of tears off her face. Ricky opened the paper on the surprisingly large gift, revealing a white box. Inside lay a beautiful rosewood guitar. The accenting was gold along the edges, and the surfaces were perfectly shined. It produced a lovely warm tone when he strummed the strings. It was perfectly tuned.

“Oh, this’ll make some very pretty songs. Thank you Mia, I can’t wait to play something on this bad boy,” he said, a wide smile lighting up his face.

Night got up and handed Ricky a cylindrical canister. Ricky popped it open and dumped out the contents.

“A roll of durable fabric?”

“Unroll it, dumbass,” Night chuckled.

Ricky undid the tie. Inside lay a brand new set of throwing knives. The steel was the same color as the knife he had designed himself. Each had a small engraved G on it, and all of them were sharpened as fine as a scalpel. Ricky’s eyes lit up as he picked up one of the knives.

“Hey Night, grab one of those oranges for me.”

Night seemed to follow his train of thought and stood against a wall, balancing the fruit on his head. The dangerous light in Ricky’s eyes continued to shine until the knife sunk itself in the fruit.

“Ooh, those are NICE,” Ricky sighed, giving Night a hug.

“Good, I contemplated kidnapping that detective that you won’t shut up about, but then the opportunity presented itself for that lovely set.”

Ricky scoffed, Fran handing him a package. Inside lay a palette of ties with a few new dark collared shirts. One was deep blue with small white dots, one deep red, and one black with slight golden stripes.

“Thank you Fran! I’ve been trying to expand my shirt options!”

“You better clean out your tie drawer then,” the Mayor laughed from the other side of the room.

“Some of them have gone out of style anyways,” Ricky sighed, accepting a brown paper package from Banjo. It was quite long and thin.

“It seems that Night and I had a similar train of thought for you,” Banjo said.

A classic black umbrella lay in the box, Ricky picking it up. He gave the umbrella a once over for any weaponry, deciding to open it. The deep wooden handle looked nice, and the fabric was also a nice choice.

“No offense Banjo, but beating someone to death with an umbrella isn’t really my style,” Ricky chuckled.

“Close it, twist the handle twice, and pull the handle away from the fabric end,” Banjo explained, a patient smile on his face.

Ricky followed the simple instructions and a rapier blade came out of the umbrella with the handle he pulled. His eyes widened in shock and he pulled out the full blade.

“Woah, now that’s a weapon,” Mia looked, just as surprised as Ricky, “Looks like something a spy would carry.”

“I’ve always wanted something I can sneak into places without failing a pat down check! Thank you Banjo,” Ricky genuinely let out.

The Mayor handed him a Manila folder, once the blade was back in the umbrella and the umbrella was set down.

“Ooh, this one’s got a little bit of heft to it.”

Inside, there were blueprints. Ricky silently observed them for a moment, trying to figure out what the small building would be. It looked like an addition to something.

“I designed it and your mother helped pay for it. It’s an extension to the greenhouse,” the Mayor explained upon Ricky’s confusion, “We shall begin construction in the spring.”

“HOLY SHIT! Thank you so much! I’ve been wanting to do that for forever, I’ve just had no time!” he cried out, giving the mayor a tight hug.

Fran received a bag of her favorite makeup from Mia, all stored in a cute red cosmetics bag. The Mayor gave her some hair products he’d noticed she was running low on. Night and Ricky had collaborated on some organization units for her disguise room, which was getting rather messy. After a short round of ‘thank you’s’ and some hugs, Banjo pulled out a couple of boxes. He got her a white gold necklace with rubies, a bracelet and earrings to match. 

“Aww thanks babe, I love them. The rubies even match the lipstick that Mia got me!”

She gave him a short peck on the lips, getting up from her spot to get her present to him.

“I’ll start off Banjo’s presents.”

She got him some book keeping items, and his eyes lit up with joy, “So I can stop leaving those little notecards you hate all over the place! Awesome, thank you Fran.”

Ricky got him a new pair of brown leather shoes and socks, Night gifted him a set of lock picks. Mia ended up getting him a piano songbook and a new pair of glasses.

“I had to ask Fran for your prescription, hope they’re right,” she said, fingers crossed as he slid them on.

“Yep, these fit perfectly. And I can see out of them too! Thank you guys,” he chose a short group hug instead of each individual giving him a hug.

Night was the last person in the room to get gifts, and the Mayor went first, giving him a grey silk scarf. After a quick thank you, the Mayor walked off, which Night considered odd because they hadn’t finished.

Fran got up and handed him a small box that had bath products in it. There were some salts and oils in his favorite fragrances, his favorite soap, and some shampoo and conditioner. Some of the salts and a bar of soap were in Leg’s favorite scents though. She had a small smirk on her face, as did Ricky and Banjo.

“Thanks,” he said, a little confused at the other fragrances. Maybe she’d gotten them months in advance and forgotten that they were there.

Mia had gotten him some stylish ties and a pair of new shoes, to liven up his mostly grey and black wardrobe, with even just a tie. A second, matching pair of shoes lay underneath the tree, unbeknownst to Night, or Mia. Ricky got them when he’d figured out which department store Mia went to. They were much too big for Night, but that was the point.

“Thank you Mia,” he sighed, giving her a hug.

Banjo got him a couple white knit throw blankets, Night even more confused because they were ginormous for his one person lifestyle. One had the letters N&L on it, and he was angry and a little hurt.

“Thank you,” he bitterly stated through gritted teeth. Maybe they’d gone shopping together, but why leave it in while wrapping them?

Ricky’s smirk only grew when Night was opening his last present.

On top, there was a light grey tweed three piece. The shirt that was added to the combo had black buttons, and it was obviously meant to go with Mia’s gift. There was a charcoal tweed suit folded up in the same manner, but it clearly wasn’t cut for Night’s figure.

His first assumption was that Ricky had just forgotten that the tailor put both suits in one box, and that one was made for Tinsley. But then he realized the pants were only a couple inches too short to be for Tinsley. But they were clearly made for someone tall, the arms for someone a little stronger than Tinsley too. 

“Hey Ricky, I think the tailor messed up a suit for Tinsley,” Night began uncertainly.

“Oh that? That’s not for you, but it’s not for Tinsley either,” Ricky explained.

“Then who could it possibly be for?”

Ricky cut back in, “Actually Night, by my calculations you missed someone.”

“Who? There’s nobody older than me here and I got all of you presents,” Night explained, still thoroughly confused.

“No, you’re only 29, the oldest we have here is 31,” Ricky explained, still sounding completely genuine.

“What the hell is going on? Did nobody tell me that Tinsley was coming over or something?”

The Mayor, amongst all the confusion, had managed to climb a stepping stool to put some mistletoe on the doorway before the final guest arrived. 

“Seriously guys, I’m starting to feel bad, who did I forget?” he asked, back turned towards the doorway.

“Me I guess,” a voice chimed from behind Night.

Night’s head whipped around at the familiar voice. He froze in place and slapped his hands on top of his mouth in genuine shock. Tears quickly filled his eyes as he ran towards the man in the doorway.

“Legs! Oh my god! It’s really you!”

The two men crushed each other in a hug, tears of joy streaming down both of their faces.

“Hi Night-Night,” Legs shakily greeted.

“I can’t believe that you’re actually back,” he sighed, “I thought you were dead! I thought I was gonna spend Christmas alone.”

“I’ll never leave you alone again, not if I have anything to say about it,” Legs reassured.

Night took a step back for a moment after noticing his sling. His eye was also bruised, a few cuts on his cheek that may have been a result of his clean shaven face. There were a few stitches on his right cheekbone, but despite all of these injuries, he was here. Alive. In one piece. Mia was on two feet now, frozen in place and still looking shocked at his return.

“Oh my god did I hurt your arm? I’m so sorry,” Night panicked slightly.

“No, you could never hurt me,” Legs gently said.

“I don’t have a present for you, sorry,” Night slightly laughed, still holding his good hand.

“Well I have a present for you, though it might not be as extravagant as year’s past,” Legs smirked, gesturing for Night to look up.

“Awww, you sappy piece of shit,” he started to say before Legs scooped him up with his one good arm back into an embrace and kissed him directly on the mouth. Night made a surprised noise before wrapping his arms around Leg’s neck, helping to support himself.

Mia whooped and Ricky clapped a few times, Banjo and Fran slapping the backs of their heads. Ricky then started to clean up wrapping paper. Legs put Night down after a few seconds. Mia walked up to the pair and gave Legs a short side hug, adding another ‘I missed you’. She stepped back to help Ricky finish cleaning up some wrapping paper.

“Damn I missed doing that,” Legs said, giving Night a peck on the cheek.

“Oh I’m sure you missed a lot more than that,” Night murmured, before realizing that they had company when everyone (including Legs) began laughing, Mia somewhat shocked that Night had said that.

His face lit up in a light blush, going to go help clean up wrapping paper. Once Fran had stopped giggling, she informed Ricky of their status on his offer.

“Hey, if you’re going to see one of those christmas movies at the theatre, me and Banjo are in. So’s Mia, but she wasn’t sure about Night,” she added.

“Uhhh Legs and I should be good to go,” Night awkwardly added.

“Good! Because I bought all of you tickets anyways two days ago,” Ricky cheerily picked up the last few pieces of paper near his area and threw them in one of the bags the Mayor was holding. Once the living room was clean, people took their gifts back to their luggage or in Ricky’s case, to his room. He gave Legs some brown paper bags that he’d saved from his last grocery store trip for the blankets. The rest should fit into Night’s suitcase.

Ricky and the Mayor prepared a quick lunch for their guests before moving on to start the preparations for dinner, so that the Mayor would just have to put it into the oven while they were off at the movies.

“Hey Ricky, I have a gift for you before my darling boyfriend drags me off to a parlor for the day,” Legs chimed from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Ew, I didn’t need the image of you and my cousin off somewhere in my house fucking, thank you very much,” Ricky rolled his eyes.

“Well, I wrote down where Fear’s gonna be this New Years. Looks like you can get that revenge you’ve been searching for after all. And not just on Fear. An advanced congrats on your uninvited return, sad I can’t be there,” Legs said, placing an envelope on the counter for Ricky.

Ricky’s eyes widened as Legs quickly walked off towards the ballroom, trying to find the fastest route to one of the parlors. Ricky noted that he’d seen Night steal one of the knit blankets that Fran had given them.

He called Tinsley and left a quick message for when he could get to his phone.

Night and Legs spent the day cuddling on a couch, Fran and Banjo went off into town for the afternoon, and Ricky spent the day testing out some of his gifts in the basement.

He checked his pocket watch at 5, walking upstairs to find the Mayor.

“Put the dinner in the oven at 6:30, it should be done and cool by the time we get home,” Ricky excitedly said, going off to find everyone after he put some shoes and a coat on. Surprisingly Night and Legs weren’t actually making out when he walked in and told them that they were going to leave in about ten minutes. Fran and Banjo had just gotten back at the house, so they were already ready to go.

They all piled into two cars, 3 people per car. They made their way to the theatre to catch the last showing of  _ It’s a Wonderful Life. _

Banjo and Night complained a little about how cheesy the movie was, but they watched it anyways, Banjo sneaking in a few kisses. Night and Legs restrained themselves, they were in public after all.

The group got out of the theatre, Christmas spirit still strong with the group. The Mayor had the larger table set up for all the guests, including Legs. The food was done to perfection. Potatoes, ham, rolls, gravy, peach preserves, vegetables, and salad were spread along the table. Sugar cookies lay along the dessert cart, waiting at the corner of the room.

“Thank you guys for dinner,” Fran said after the dinner was consumed.

“Yeah, that was the first actually decent meal I’ve had for a while, thank you,” Legs chimed.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta work on getting you back to where you were,” Night added at the quick nod of agreement from everyone at the table.

The group went off to the living room to enjoy drinks and music. Ricky even played a song or two on his guitar. Banjo and Fran performed some of the songs they knew from memory, and a record or two accompanied everyone’s dancing. Once the Mayor deemed everyone sufficiently drunk he sent them all back to their rooms, not wanting to deal with them any more intoxicated. He’d only had one glass of wine, limiting himself even during the holidays.

Ricky went back to his bathroom, washing his hair free of product in a hot shower. Tinsley hadn’t called him back all day, but he enjoyed his own day just fine. His silk pajamas and quilt wrapped him in a warm, drowsy hug.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, love hearing the feedback!


	21. Dealbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start off things slow with another Christmas scene then crank the heat up a little towards the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but ThReE chapters!! Enjoy peeps!

Tinsley woke up to a slap in the face. Not from a human, mind you, but a cat’s paw. Buddy tapped his face until he opened his eyes and turned his face away, insisting “I’m up, I’m up.”

As he got out of bed, he noticed that his room was chillier than it was last night. It was even more odd when he noticed his slightly open window. Maybe that was why Buddy woke him up, to close it. He didn’t remember opening it any last night either.

He shrugged it off, closing the window and putting on some clothes. Maybe he’d gotten hot somewhere in the night and opened it a crack, only to fall asleep and forget about it. He chose to wear his cleanest trench coat and a pair of deep blue pants for a change. He also threw on a vest in the same shade of blue, and a black bow tie, he wanted to look his best for Christmas lunch. He even washed his face and combed his hair to the best of his ability. It still didn’t want to be in place of course, but he did his best.

He didn’t look at the counter, grabbing the two packages he had to drop off without so much as a glance to the other packages on the counter.

He got into his car after he fed Buddy and headed over to Holly and Claire’s. He knocked on their door, only having to wait a short while before one of the residents answered.

“How are you Tinsley? Sleep well?” Holly politely asked, taking his coat. She noted that it smelled extremely clean.

“Yeah, and I’m well. A window in my apartment was open, so I’m glad that nothing happened. No signs of a break in, so I probably just felt hot somewhere through the night and meant to close it after a few minutes. Buddy didn’t seem distressed, which is a good thing,” Tinsley recounted the events of this morning to Holly and Claire’s open ears.

“Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Break in scares are never fun, especially on Christmas. Let’s do presents and have some lunch, yeah?”

They all gathered in the living room, everyone sorting the gifts by person. Holly had wrapped all of her gifts in old newspaper, making sure to only use the wordy pages, no colorful pictures. Holly had wrapped hers in holly paper, as kind of a joke. Tinsley chose brown paper. When everyone had collected their piles, the opening began.

Holly got to go first, opening Claire’s neat wrapping. She got ink for her typewriter and paper. The second package from Claire were framed pictures of a vacation they’d taken last spring to Phoenix. Holly gave her partner a hug, saying, “Thank you! I know exactly where we can put these, dear.”

“You’re welcome. Now do Tinsley’s!”

She opened the messy paper to reveal a box of her favorite tea and a new mug. It was like the ones Tinsley always kept around his own apartment, except in light blue.

“When we first met, you said you didn’t get to paint your car the color you wanted. I thought a mug might be a good enough compromise,” Tinsley explained.

“Oh, thank you Tinsley! That’s very sweet of you, and I can’t wait to enjoy the tea.”

Claire went next, picking up Tinsley’s first. It was a ‘quick dinners’ cookbook.

“Hon look! Now I can make dinner even if I have a late shift!” she exclaimed, excited to flip through it when she had the chance.

“Yeah, I see that! Thanks Tinsley, I was getting sick of PB and J after 10 years,” Holly laughed.

She opened the gifts from Holly, a new pot and a set of metal measuring spoons lay in one package. The envelope held a very sentimental letter.

“Awww, thank you hon. I love you so much, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you in my life,” she said, tears gleaming in her eyes. She gave Holly a quick peck on the lips.

“Ew, emotions,” Tinsley said, jokingly making a disgusted face.

“Shut up and open your presents kid,” Claire laughed.

Holly had gone with a practical approach, getting him a journal and some new desk stationary, including some new black pens.

“Thanks, I needed some this New Years’.”

“Yeah, I know, how else are you gonna catch ‘you know who’,” Holly smirked.

Claire got him a new light blue scarf, and another trench coat. Holly’s head immediately dropped down to hit her knees.

“God, please don’t say you’re fueling this now Claire,” Holly sighed.

“What? It’s like his trademark now, how’s one more going to hurt? That one’s partially waterproof too. But don’t spill coffee on it,” she said, addressing Tinsley more than Holly.

“Thank both of you,” he laughed, giving both of them a hug.

“Now how’s about some lunch?” Claire questioned. 

“I’m always ready for food,” Tinsley added after a nod of agreement from Holly.

“Let’s head into the kitchen then, I think the ham is ready.”

Once Claire had affirmed that the ham was indeed done to the correct temperature, she finished out the spread on the table. There was potatoes, orange gelatin with real oranges and walnuts, fresh baked rye bread, and a simple salad with cranberry dressing.

“For what little time you usually have to cook Claire, you sure do know how to,” Tinsley marveled.

“Aw stop, you’re gonna make me blush. Holly, if you’d be a dear and cut the ham.”

Holly did pick up a knife and started to slice up the relatively small ham. Tinsley wondered where she’d gotten one that seemed to be the perfect size for three.

“So how’d you enjoy the party last night Tinsley? I noticed that you took a particular shining to a certain someone’s performance,” Claire smirked.

“I did enjoy the party. Not a single interaction with Ricky Goldsworth to be seen. But the man does have a set of pipes, I will admit that,” Tinsley responded, shutting down the playful nature of her question.

“He also plays the guitar,” Claire added, “And the piano.”

“Okay, he’s a talented musician. And? What else do you want me to say?”

“Nothing, dear,” Claire smiled.

“Well how did you guys enjoy the party?”

“I had a lovely time dancing with you, and the drinks were also amazing.”

“They are every year, Claire,” Holly began, “I enjoyed seeing some old friends.”

The three continued to converse and enjoy the lunch, Holly insisting that Tinsley take home some apple pie that she’d made. He also brought home the present for Buddy that was under the couple’s tree.

The drive was nice, not too busy on Christmas Day. The roads were mostly clear, and he hit all of the lights green. He pulled up to the side of his apartment, deciding to risk the elevator when he got in.

He fed Buddy a couple treats, noting that his cat bowl was empty after Tinsley had only been gone for a few hours.

“Wow, you’re hungry today. Now, how about we get a drink and open the rest of these presents, eh Buddy? Two for you, and on-“ Tinsley froze mid sentence, looking towards his counter. There were two more packages and an envelope added to the counter. One was tall and thin, the other short and around the size of his hand.

Tinsley sighed, putting down the cloth bag that Claire had lent him, going towards the packages.  _ You don’t usually get many burglars that leave gifts,  _ he thought.

The familiar pretty handwriting on the envelope, addressed ‘CC Tinsley’, was obviously Ricky’s. That explained the somewhat open window. And the fact that nothing was stolen or messed up.

He stacked the presents and took them to his couch, where he let buddy smack some of his presents, slightly tearing the paper on one. He unwrapped Buddy’s for him while Buddy was distracted by the red paper on Mia’s box.

“Buddy! Look at what Holly and Claire got you!”

He revealed a new red collar with a bell and name tag on it, and a small bag of kitty treats.

“You’re trying this on later. Maybe then you’ll be a better guard cat,” he laughed, Buddy still lounging on the arm of the couch, not paying much attention to either of the gifts.

“And this is what I got you,” he held up a new harness and a feather toy. Buddy immediately took interest in the toy, trying to lazily bat at the feathers.

“I see how it is. Glad I’m your favorite though.”

He opened the gift from Mia first, Buddy taking immediate interest in the wrapping paper that he slightly crumpled in his hands. He tossed it to the ground, Buddy leaping directly after it. He was still apprehensive about Ricky’s set, fully aware of his previous attempts at ‘gifts’.

Mia had gotten him a full set of skincare products, lotions and scrubs and creams with a note card set on top.  _ Take care of your alligator skin, bitch. _

“Thanks Mia,” he audibly sighed, trying some of the hand cream on his hand. It smelled of coconut, overall not an unpleasant fragrance.

He moved onto Ricky’s set of packages. He opened one cautiously, peeling back the black paper with little green trees on it. It revealed a plain white box which contained a bottle of wine, a vintage red that must’ve cost a pretty penny. Tissue paper covered the cylindrical edges against the corners. Beside it in the box, hidden in some of the tissue paper, there was a small bag labeled:  _ For your cat. _

Tinsely took a little whiff of the cheesecloth and decided that it was definitely catnip, choosing not to let Buddy have any today.

He moved onto the second gift, peeling back the paper to discover a book.  _ Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.  _ He’d only recently seen that one on shelves of booksellers a few months ago. He moved onto the card, somewhat happy that the gifts did not consist of any more severed limbs or blood. Or anything creepy in general.

Inside was a short message for Tinsley

_ I do hope nobody has spoiled the book yet, but if not you can get drunk and read it anyways. Hope that you’re more of a red guy too. Sadly whiskey or bourbon was out of the question this year, knowing you, you’d drink half the bottle in a night. Your pretty cat should enjoy the catnip, you’ll have to introduce me sometime. Enjoy the gifts, Merry Christmas Detective Tinsley!  _

_ -Ricky G. _

Even the note felt a little off to be coming from Ricky, but he wrote it off as not wanting to be on trial for murder anytime soon. He began to read the book after he cleaned up wrapping paper, receiving one phone call through the day.

He sighed loudly, deciding to let the phone ring. If it was that important, they would leave a message. They left a message. He got up and listened to it, “Hey Tinsley, Merry Christmas. I have information for you, so it would be greatly appreciated if you would come to Goldsworth Manor as soon as you get this.”

He clicked his phone back on the wall, breathing in and sighing deeply. He flopped back down on the couch, and he decided that he was going to enjoy his Christmas all by himself.

-

Four mornings later, after some alone time and research done, he decided to visit.

He supposed he did technically still have to help Ricky, at least one more time. Then he could demand a confession and evidence. And a couple bonuses from Saunders.

He plodded down the steps of the building to his car, wanting to slam his head against the steering wheel until he had an excuse not to go.

The Mayor greeted him at the door, the sounds of guests still making their presence known.

“Mister Goldsworth in a meeting with a client right now, but he should be done within a span of 5 to 10 minutes. You’re welcome to wait in the parlor or outside his office. The library is also a suitable place, if it fits your tastes.”

“I think I’ll take the office, thanks. I can find my own way,” Tinsley muttered, leaving the butler in the entry to go up the staircase.

He tapped three times on the office door, finding it surprisingly empty. Maybe the meeting was happening somewhere else. He stepped into the office, walking into the place he’d only ever seen a few times before. Now he could really look around.

The well taken care of dark oak floors matched the desk and the bookshelves lining two walls of the room. The shelves had various objects laying on them, unmarked leather folders, black binders, books with nothing on the spine, family albums. A skull lay on the desk, probably a real person’s if Tinsley got it checked out. Ricky kept a very organized office, files kept closed on the desk or in drawers. Ricky kept a couple fountain pens on the desk, a planner splayed out over the top as well as various organizational notes. A folder lay tempting on the corner of the very polished wood. Two swords lay crossed in combat on top of the fireplace on the other side of the room.

A couple white couches lay on that side of the room, on top of a red rug. There was a small bar on that side of the room as well, decanters filled with various liquids.

He decided to give into the temptation and look at the folder. There were typed copies of information, a business card with a number that Ricky had crossed out, and a packing list. The card had the same strange symbol as the one in his suitcase. There was a second and third one in the same format as the one he’d found in the suitcase, but with two of the victim’s names on them. Robert Winifred and Linda Joy, the ones that Ricky’s mom had said smuggled things. The address must be where Fear is holding up.

He decided to read some of the pages of notes when he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. He quickly got up from the plush chair he was sitting in and rushed to put the folder back where it was. He ended up getting caught.

Ricky walked in the room, looking sharp in a pinstripe suit. He took off the jacket and hung it off the back of his chair. His vest was the same pattern and fabric, and he’d either already abandoned the tie already or not worn one at all. The latter sounded more like Ricky.

He looked stressed, but he still smiled at the detective when he said, “Hey Tinsley, how are you today? Read anything interesting?”

“Just great. This file has some very interesting things in it, like these,” Tinsley flashed the three cards before slapping them back in the folder, “Your suitcase had a very similar one, just got me wondering about some things. But, how are you?” Tinsley quipped sarcastically, standing up to greet Ricky.

“I’m fine, but your findings would better be explained by what I actually have to talk to you about.”

Tinsley just nodded as a reply, Ricky still pacing the room slightly. He picked up the folder that Tinsley had been looking at, inspecting it.

“Well, this should be it. You’ll have your confession by the time this is all over,” Ricky assured, “That is, if we get the guy.”

“Get on with it. I want answers, Goldenboy.”

“Fine, fine, just thought I’d remind you what’s at stake for you. Your freedom, me in prison, the detective’s dream really,” Ricky remarked, and after receiving silence from Tinsley continued, “The cards are simply from Fear’s dental office. I talked to his secretary, and apparently Fear’s gonna be at this conference for dentists in Salt Lake for about half a week, the 2nd to the 6th. I figur-“

“I’m not going to Salt Lake City with you to track down Fear at some convention,” Tinsley cut in, irritated, “I’m going to stay here and get you put where you belong. I’m not just some servant at your beck and call, I have my own life.”

“But the deal, dear detective. You owe me,” Ricky reminded him, a little off put by the interruption.

“So? I don’t think you should go either. Something about this smells fishy, and I don’t know if it’s because you’re lying or if it’s a trap orchestrated for you delivered in deceitful packaging. It’s a bad idea,” Tinsley huffed, “And I don’t ‘owe’ you anything. Neither of us has fulfilled our terms.”

“It’s the perfect opportunity! He can’t fight back if he’s among them, the best time to strike! Don’t you see that??” Ricky raised his voice, only half-lying about the company. Tinsley was right, it wasn’t just going to be a bunch of dentists. Hell, it wasn’t a dental convention either, he had to lie so Tinsley would go. But Tinsley was not seeming to be okay with his idea, either way.

“No,” Tinsley began.  _ Who did this guy think he was? _ “I’m not risking my ass again for a guy who almost got me killed! The last time you said it was gonna be easy, I almost got shot in the head and left in a warehouse to rot. How can I believe a word you’re saying when all you’ve done is lie to me?!” Tinsley matched Ricky’s volume, taking another step forward.

“I saved your life for god’s sake! I have the scars to prove it, would you like to see them?! I never even wanted you to follow me into the warehouse! You might be able to throw a punch, but taking one yourself?” Ricky took a deep, ragged breath before continuing, “No, you leave that to whoever’s around you! I’ve put my neck out for you how many times? And you? Who are you putting your neck out for except yourself?”

“I never asked you to!” Tinsley swallowed, packing as much venom as he could into his voice. “You’re stubborn and more selfish than you could ever make me out to be. You get the things that YOU want through means I couldn’t even imagine! You say you’re doing this for people, but all I can see is blind and selfish rage behind every decision you’ve made so far. You just want revenge for yourself and no matter who it hurts and who it benefits. But when you can lie to yourself that your selfish rage is benefiting others, you snatch up that opportunity faster than anyone can blink. You’re manipulative, twisted, and sick in the head.”

“Oh and like you’re little mister perfect,” Ricky spat, “The funny thing about being a detective is that YOU’RE RESPONSIBLE WHEN YOU DON’T SOLVE THE CASE! Every death that you let go unsolved, that’s on  _ you _ . Every person that dies when you’re on the case? You. Every time you lie to a family, every time you tell them that things are going to be fine, that you’re on the case, that you end up failing. That’s you. At least I don’t have my own parents on my list.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?!” Tinsley seethed, stepping up to Ricky and grabbing the lapels of his vest.

Ricky responded by grabbing a letter opener off his desk, bringing it up to Tinsley’s face menacingly, “Yeah, I know about that little house fire back in Chicago. The one that took out dear old mom and dad. The fact that the press didn’t know who it was. Love is such a twisted thing sometimes. How is your wife feeling in the asylum you slammed her in? Cold? Maybe in the dirt?”

Tinsley let go of Ricky, stepping back like he had been punched in the gut, “Your inability to shut up might just lose you an ally in the wrong place Goldsworth. Watch what you say next.”

“What? So the second I point out your mistakes you get to leave?” Ricky rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ll go when I tell you to! You’re not even my ally as far as I can tell,” Ricky snapped back.

“I’ll go whenever the fuck I want to!” Tisnley shouted. “That’s all I need to hear from you. If anything, this conversation proved me right,” he paused, gathering his words. “You’re impulsive, selfish, and stubborn. Your only drive in life is revenge and I’m done here. The deal’s off. And you better bet that the SECOND I get a scrap of anything pointing towards you, I’m marching up to this place, day or night, rain or shine, and slapping a pair of cuffs on you to drag your ass to the department,” Tinsley coldly delivered.

“Fine! I don't even know why I called you in the first place.” 

“Goodbye Ricky,” Tinsley punctuated the conversation, and without any second for Ricky to respond, he stormed out of the room.

Rageful energy filled the space where Tinsley had walked out. The Mayor almost got knocked down by Tinsley, who hadn’t seen him. He didn’t apologize, just continued to the grand staircase to the entryway. He was clearly angry, and left as soon as he could.

He poked his head into the door of the room where Ricky stood, looking like he was about to tear his hair out. Anger still seethed from his being, but the Mayor still set the drink tray he was carrying down and looked towards his employer.

“I take it things didn’t go well, would you like a drink? Possibly something a little stronger than an iced coffee?”

“No, no, coffee will be fine,” Ricky huffed, “But it would be best for people to leave me alone today, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that that’s all over, thanks for tuning in and I’ll see y’all either Wednesday or Friday, depending on if I choose to continue updating once a week or push for twice. I hope you liked your way early gift, and thanks for reading! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	22. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot goes on bc I couldn’t figure out where to split it, enjoy my esteemed readers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tuning in again! I hope you enjoyed the Christmas vibes of the last three chapters, but we do have to get back to business as foreshadowed by the fight lol. Please enjoy!

The night was seared in his mind since Ricky brought it up, years of barriers and blockades torn down in his mind, leaving the scarred memory a fresh wound instead. He remembered the warnings that he later realized. The conversations. He’d been blinded by his work, blinded by his mind. Blinded by  _ feelings.  _ He wanted to love her. He really did. They were best friends in his first year of college. She wanted to see it become something more, and so did he.

So he did let it become something more. She was the light of his life, his beautiful inspiration. Kisses became confessions, and confessions quickly,  _ too quickly,  _ became proposals. But love was a twisted thing, and soon what was a blossoming relationship between two young individuals became quickly festering hate.

One night, things got particularly nasty. At first they started an argument about kids. He didn’t want them, she did. The following events flashed in his head.

_ “Well maybe I wouldn’t feel so unconfident in my ability as a wife if you would just do something with me! You’re always at work or at your parent’s or reading! I’m your goddamn WIFE, I should be able to at least comfort you, but you seem to want nothing to do with me,” she screeched, tears freely running tracks down her face. _

_ “Well I’m sorry that I’m providing for what little family I have,” he quipped sarcastically, “I don’t have time for a kid, we don’t have the money either. My job is the only thing keeping us afloat. Maybe if you’d actually DO something with your life, then we could afford a kid. Maybe then you’d realize why children are a waste of our time! You want to comfort me, but moments like these are why my parent’s spare bedroom exists. Sometimes I wonder why I even gave you that ring, when you clearly don’t care about me either.” _

_ She gasped, then slapped him across the face, “I knew it! I wonder if your parent’s spare bed isn’t the only bed you’ve been in recently. Maybe Joanne from down the street? You always did love dark brown eyes.” _

_ “I would never!” _

_ “Oh yes you would!” _

_ “I don’t have time to deal with your fanatical and paranoid accusations, we’ll finish this tomorrow. I need to think,” Tinsley loudly sighed, annoyed at how long this was going on. _

_ “If you walk out that door don’t even think about coming back!” she yelled, Tinsley continuing to walk out the door. He drove to his friend's house, wanting to avoid his parent’s questions and his wife in general. Sure the house was only down the street from his parent’s, but it was convenient for when he was visiting them around the holidays. _

_ John had learned not to question things lately when Tinsley would walk into his house with bruises or scrapes and sit on the couch. He would offer him a beer and sit down with Tinsley, just listening to the radio. The news of war was always on most of the channels, but sometimes you could find music. They’d met after John had finished a tour of Europe. He was missing his left eye and had severe scars on his left side from when he was on the wrong side of a grenade. His leg was stiff and needed a cane, but he did get to keep it, gladly. _

_ He fell asleep on John’s couch, only to be woken up by John a few hours later, extreme concern lacing his voice. _

_ “Tinsley, Tinsley wake up! CC! Your parent’s house is on fire!” _

_ Tinsley shot up off the couch, realizing that had fallen asleep in his clothes. He ran over to the door, fumbling to get his shoes on. _

_ “Shitshitshitshit,” he kept muttering. _

_ “Tinsley! It’ll be okay, just sit back dow-“ John tried to calm his friend, only to be shoved aside. _

_ “No!” Tinsley yelled, running out into the street. He sprinted to his parent’s house, which was already up in flames. He ran in, trying to look for his parents. He breathed into the sleeve of his already ash covered trench coat, bending down to avoid the smoke. He attempted to make it to the upstairs hallway, avoiding collapsed and flaming beams. _

_ He felt that he was almost at the doorway, he was so close. He heard their screams, their terrible screams. Then the screaming stopped with a loud crackle and crash. His wife kicked down the charred door, leaving a perfect view of the flaming material filled room and releasing more smoke into the hallway. His eyes continued to sting, tearing up with more smoke and heat waving past him. _

_ “Amelia??” he coughed, already finding it difficult to breathe, “Why would you do this?! Where are they?” _

_ “They’re gone Tinsley! The rubble got to them, I got out just before the roof collapsed. Now I’ve just got to get it to burn you too!” she yelled, lunging at him. _

_ He stumbled backwards, falling over onto a burning column that had collapsed. His pant leg and coat started catching, and he tried to bite back the pain as he tried to escape. She continued to walk across the upstairs hallway, when the piece of flooring she stood on collapsed. He stood at the side of the hole, noticing that she was caught under burning lumber herself. _

_ “AMELIA!” He yelled, her small frame starting to catch. _

_ He suddenly heard a shout outside the house, “CASEY!” _

_ More of the building around him started to give way as he ran past hallways filled with burning and shattered pictures, memories of his past. He made it out of the house, nearly collapsing into a neighbor’s arms. _

_ “Thank god CC, are you okay?” A voice chimed from his side. It was John, in just a robe and pajama pants, “Let’s go back to my place and get you patched up, huh? I’ll call your wife and le-“ _

_ “Amelia was in the fire, she- she got trapped, and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save any of them,” Tinsley started to cry, watching his childhood home go up in smoke. By the time the fire department had arrived it was too late to save, so they focused on not letting it get to other houses first, then putting it out. The bricks crumbled down, and the snow was caked in ash, as was Tinsley’s hair. A lady from the ambulance looked at his burns, gently taking care of them where needed. His leg was the worst, and she said it’d scar. The coat protected most of the rest, so nothing else was too horrible. _

_ He woke up very late the next morning on John's couch again. His friend was reading the newspaper, looking very concerned about his guest. He moved about a year after, not being able to handle looking at the city the same anymore. _

The dream tormented him, the flames tormented him, for years. Ricky had brought the nightmares back for the most part. The screaming, the burning, the smoke. Tinsley heard nothing, the sweet sound of silence since the fight on Ricky’s end. He’d felt partially bad about some of the things he said, but Rickyreally deserved all of it. The nightmares were enough to tell him so. Sometimes, Ricky even took Amelia’s place in the dream, ending up under the flames and going up in smoke with his fancy clothes.

_ Maybe I should have gone with him,  _ raced through Tinsley’s mind the next day, a thought that he quickly pushed down. Despite attempting to suffocate it, it continued to itch at his head through the day, popping up as he did his research or pet Buddy or even when he was  _ trying  _ to sleep, goddamnit. New Year’s Eve celebrations raged around him, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep.

He called Holly the next morning, still very curious as to what he should do. Should he go over and check in? Should he enjoy the peace and quiet? Something in between those two?

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered; it was six in the morning after all.

“Hi Holly. I think I messed up? I don’t know,” he began to ramble, running his fingers through his hair. “Me and Ricky got in a huge fight over at the Manor, and nothing got physical but we kind of just left each other alone afterwards. I broke off this deal we had, but now he won’t talk to me. Is that normal? You’ve been here for longer than I have,” Tinsley continued, but Holly butted in.

“Tinsley,” she sighed, “Calm down. Just go over and check in if you’re really that concerned about your favorite rich boy. You might even get a drink out of it.”

“Okay, yeah I’ll do that. Thanks Holly,” he hung the phone back up quickly, pulling on his coat and shoes. That was, before he remembered the fact that the sun hadn’t even risen, for the second time that morning.

_ I should wait,  _ his brain spat the first good idea in at least a day. He went to go lie down on his couch for at least a few hours.

He finished his copy of Fahrenheit 451, and let Buddy sit on his chest when he opened up his volume of Shakespeare’s works, reading some parts aloud for the cat that had kindly moved just enough so that he could see the words.

The thought beckoned to him again, and thanks to Holly, he decided to follow it, for the sake of curiosity at least. His car waited out on the street, now illuminated by a sunny sky, the road ahead of him set no resistance as he made his way over to the Manor.

He had raised his hand up to knock when the door was swung open by none other than Night. He stepped back, surprised by the lawyer’s appearance.

“Oh hi there, Tinsley! What can we do for you?” he asked as a taller man with dark caramel hair and blue eyes walked up behind him.

“Uhhh, do you know where Ricky is? I’m not here to slap cuffs on him or anything, don’t worry about that. Who’s the new guy?”

“I’m Legs, fellow lawyer and partner in crime to this guy right here,” he introduced, gesturing to Night before extending his good hand for a handshake.

“Detective Tinsley, hello Legs,” Tinsley dismissed his hand, getting back to his business here, “Now where is he?”

“Ricky left yesterday at around noon,” Night informed, “Why?”

“I wanted to check in, he still hasn’t gotten back? Did he go up to Salt Lake after Fear?”

Night’s eyes widened, and Legs silently cringed a little bit, “Why would he be going up to Salt Lake for Fear? When did he tell you this?! Who told him?!”

His voice levels gradually raised in concern, nearly invading Tinsley’s personal space before Legs held him back.

“Yes? What’s so wrong with that? It’s like, his main vengeance dream right now or whatever. He said something like ‘it’s the perfect opportunity’,” Tinsley explained, “There’s an envelope in his office with a business card and shit, don’t ask me.”

“God grant me patience,” Night muttered, dragging Legs to Ricky’s office. Tinsley followed, still curious as to where this was going. Nowhere good, obviously.

“This folder?” he rapidly asked, and with a quick nod from Tinsley he flipped through it, “Damn it Ricky!” He quickly snapped back at Tinsley, “I need you to tell me everything that went on in this office when he discussed this with you.”

“So the ‘convention of business’ that Fear is going to is for his, um, other hobby, and I was right to tell Ricky that it was a stupid and dangerous idea for that exact reason?” Tinsley quickly rambled, feeling very happy to be right, “We had a disagreement, to put it lightly.”

“Why didn’t you go? He did ask you to go, right?

“I’m not his chaperone. He got himself into this whole situation, he’ll get himself out.”

“You can’t possibly believe that Ricky can handle himself. He’ll be shot dead in the snow before he can even make it in.”

“You might be right, but why should I even care?” Tinsley smirked.

“Me and Legs are busy running two businesses at once. The Mayor would probably strangle the both of you if he found about all of this, and anyone else would just join. Please, Tinsley,” Night desperately explained.

“He cares more than you give him credit for, and no matter how impulsive his decision making can be, we care about him too. Just try, you don’t usually need to tell him thrice,” Legs added.

“And if you don’t we’ll charge you for obstruction of justice, among other things.”

“Letters?” Tinsley tiredly questioned.

“You betcha,” Night winked.

“Fine, but this is the  _ last time.  _ I’m not responsible for any ensuing messes, all of you are going to get rid of anything ‘blackmail’ you have on me, and you’re gonna  _ leave  _ me  _ alone. _ ”

“We can do that for you.”

“Good,” Tinsley huffed as he stormed out of that room for the second time in three days, “You could’ve just said ‘please’ like every other human on the planet!”

He packed up his suitcase and got Buddy in a carrier, as well as a small bag of food and his toys. He dropped the cat off at Holly and Claire’s place. He put chains on his tires and left with a swish of his trenchcoat when he turned around to get back into the car. and set off to drive well into the night to get there. Holly and Claire were left somewhat baffled on their doorstep, happy to take care of Buddy but concerned for the tall man.

-

Ricky looked to where he had hung his few items on hangers in the hotel room closet. Tonight would be the night when this all comes to an end, or close to it. The night of his return.

He took a short shower, and blow dried his hair to be styled to perfection. Once it was looking sleek and held its shape, he walked up to the suit he’d lain out on the bed. He’d saved it for a special occasion, and tonight seemed like the night. It was the first day of the convention, the first one he’d be attending in 5 years. He slipped on a black shirt, followed by a vest with a black brocade pattern, the thread barely raised above the fabric. His tie was the same shiny gold one he’d worn for Christmas, and he wore a plain black pair of pants and jacket.

  
  


Since his banishment, he’d trained for years, taking every second rate job he could possibly get his hands on, working for his cousin, taking the League’s scraps. Fear knew he was getting dangerous when he’d started serial killing again, it was part of the reason he’d gotten kicked in the first place.

So the League kidnapped Legs, made him deal with his cousin’s grief and back off before more people went missing. Now Ricky hoped Fear had an insurance policy on his head, he’d need it.

After Ricky had donned his completely black suit, he made sure to take the necessary precautions. He’d worn his shiny black shoes that have blades in the heels, he took his new umbrella with him, and his signature knife was hidden in a secret pocket in his vest. He made sure that everything was very well hidden for the thorough checks at the entry to the annual welcome dinner.

He slipped on a loose black overcoat and red scarf. Ricky had matured just enough from his last visit to look different from when he had first joined and been banished from the League. Fear was the only person who would know that it was him, and he set off into the city, towards the Beehive Hotel. 

He made his way up towards the bar, solidifying the changes of his plan in his mind. The loss of Tinsley would definitely affect some steps. He’d have to be a lot more careful without someone there to watch his back.

He pulled out the cards of the two lovers he’d killed, discarding the females’. He approached the strangely almost empty bar and set his course directly to the bartender.

“I’ll take a mint julep,” he drawled, somewhat imitating the accent of the young man. 

“Isn’t it a little early for derby season young man?”

“I said, a mint julep,” he flashed the card of the young man with the League’s logo and the kid’s identification. They would  _ really _ have to start putting photos on these IDs.

“Welcome to the founder’s dinner sir,” the old bartender said, opening a shelf of liquor up to reveal a staircase to the fourteenth floor of the hotel. Half of it was devoted to a passcode protected speakeasy, The Honeycomb.

He sat down at a table next to a few other people, still not taking off his overcoat, or unbuttoning it.  _ Ten minutes until the dinner starts. _

People keep arriving.  _ Five.  _ Fear takes his place at the stage.  _ Two.  _ He starts his speech, “Zero.”

“Welcome, criminals of the murderous and violent variety. To those of you just joining us this year, congratulations. For those of you joining us for the last time, goodbye. You will be missed no matter the circumstance behind your demise. I am Doctor Franklyn Fear, and I am the current head of this organization. This annual founder’s dinner, I would like to bring some rumors to truth. I have been under attack in the latter part of this year, but nothing has come of it. The perpetrators of our organization will be dealt with accordingly, but I want all of us to enjoy the convention this year, enjoy the nice break and take a step back from things,” he finished the speech quickly, noticing that the servers were almost done setting up the buffet.

Ricky, upon smelling some particularly interesting dishes, decided to procrastinate his revenge until after he’d eaten something. Best to win on a full stomach. Or, if Fear played dirty, at least he would have his last letter by his knife and a full stomach. He hung his overcoat off the back of his chair, revealing his entirely black ensemble. He looked like he was going to someone’s funeral, if it wasn’t for the tie.

He finished his plate quickly, still making sure to remember his manners. It was the way he was raised, after all. He left his coat, scarf, and plate. He was ready to get to business.

He approached Fear’s table, noticing the slight surprise in Fear’s icy blue grey eyes. He wasn’t expected here.

“Hello doctor. Lovely speech, by the way. Who wrote it for you?”

“I wrote it myself, thank you very much,  _ Goldsworth _ ,” Fear hissed, “So tell me, why are you here? To get shot by every gun within a 600 foot radius? Because that’s where this situation is headed, just so you know.”

“Oh dear, with the weapon checks and all? I thought I would be the only one to sneak in a weapon,” Ricky said with mock surprise, “I’m here to take your job, Franklyn.”

“And before any of you get up out of your seats,” Ricky gestured to the few people around Fear that were preparing to stand, “I’m not a total ass. I would like to challenge Fear to a duel, with weapons of his choice, but the kicker is that the fight is to the death. No yielding, you go down with honor.”

Fear paused, seriously considering this offer. The braver assassins at the table began to give him a dirty look. He relented, not needing to be called a coward on top of everything else that his council had told him so far this year.

“Fine, I accept your challenge, Ricky, since you obviously want me to reopen that scar I’m sure lies beneath that little outfit you’re wearing. Maybe I’ll go deeper this time, finally close those pretty eyes for good. One knife per person. That’s my terms. The boundaries will be this stage tonight. We will wait until after dinner. I have something I think you’ll like to see, if you’ll join us please.”

Ricky reluctantly sat down once Fear dismissed one of the lesser members at the table.

“What do you want if you win?” Fear questioned, taking a drink of water.

“ _ When _ I win, I want your job. Quite the organization to miss out on. Secondly, your head on a pike outside the Manor would be pretty great,” Ricky smiled, looking as if this was the best day of his life.

“Well, no need to be dramatic. And if I win, I want all access to your blackmail files, the ones you and your mother have been collecting,” Fear smirked, “Oh, and I get to use your own advice against you.”

Ricky followed his gaze to a back entrance, Tinsley was being dragged in with handcuffs on his wrists and duct tape over his mouth. He was clearly quite pissed about the blindfold over his eyes. 

“Okay bitch, I change my terms. Your job, your head, and that dumbass over there,” Ricky demanded, “Sound good? Great, I look forward to kicking your ass.”

“Tut tut, save all that aggression for the actual fight,” Fear continued smirking, obviously irritating Ricky further, “It’s not my fault he was snooping around the back for some reason. Looking for you, I would presume. But sure, I accept your terms. I’m guessing you accept mine, so let’s begin.”

Ricky hadn’t noticed that most of the patrons had cleared out by this point in the evening, and Fear waved away more of the remaining people that were just talking.

They both stepped up and took their places across from each other on the stage, the remaining witnesses leaving the room quickly, catching onto the situation.

Ricky took off his jacket and vest, neatly laying them on his seat, making sure to keep them clean. His tie joined the mix, and he plucked his knife out of his vest. At least Tinsley could get the letter on demand now. The less mail the better.

Fear had decided to keep his vest, but he too had ditched his jacket and tie. He had a stainless steel knife, it’s silvery blade reflecting Fear’s now grey looking eyes. Ricky would guess that the hilt was made of bone.

“Well? You take the first swing,” Fear taunted, Ricky rolling his eyes. “Or, I could just stab the detective.”

Ricky took a bland slap with his fist, missing by a long shot. He didn’t really care. Fear took a few shots of his own, clipping Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky decided to take his momentum into his leg, swinging it and hitting Fear solidly in the side. It clearly hurt, but Fear made a long gash on his calf on the return.

“First blood, Goldsworth, maybe I’ll just get you to pass out of blood loss again.”

Ricky took a deep breath, biting back the pain as he took the offensive. Making sure to lead with his non-injured leg, he went to grab Fear’s vest. He caught some of the fabric and cracked his forehead directly into Fears nose. He heard a satisfying pop, and definitely felt some of the blood on his forehead as he pulled away with another punch to Fear’s stomach.

The dentist had almost dropped his knife, but he kept it on hand as he wiped off his mouth area, staining a pure white sleeve with fresh red.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that one,” Fear spat.

“Will I?” Ricky cockily questioned.

Fear stashed his knife in his belt, grabbing the mic stand. The microphone clattered to the floor with a screech, and Fear took a swing towards Ricky’s bad side. Ricky tried to avoid the movement, but got the wind knocked out of him anyways. Fear then aimed for the backs of his knees, bringing him down. Another hit to his bad side, and Ricky was on the floor.

Fear popped the pole off of it’s base, pressing the end into Ricky’s chest, going harder and harder until Ricky finally got a hold of his knife again and plunged it into the middle of Fear’s foot, through the shoe and sock directly into the flesh. He was glad to have kept his knife sharp.

Fear let out a yelp of surprise, releasing the pressure on Ricky’s chest for a second. Ricky pulled out his knife and slid himself out from under the pole quickly. He was starting to get himself up again when Fear gave a somewhat weak blow to his face, leaving behind a serious red imprint.

Ricky flipped open the knife in his shoe heel, pulling out the throwing knife that he stores in it.

“Playing dirty, are we? Well, two can play at that game,” he quipped as he threw the knife into Fears hand, which was holding the pole. 

Ricky should’ve gone for Fear’s dominant hand, but he got him to drop it. Ricky quickly kicked the pole off of the stage, but Fear had the throwing knife for a turn.

He took his shot after Ricky advanced with his fists, lightly slicing Ricky’s cheek open. Blood began to flow down his face, but the knife was gone to the both of them, leaving the original agreement to one knife each.

“Well, this is going wonderfully for the both of us,” Fear sarcastically chimed in.

“No shit,” Ricky huffed, already growing a little tired.

They continued to dance around one another, a hit to the abdomen or face here and there. Ricky had a black eye and Fear ended up with scratch marks on his jawline from a failed attempt to strangle him. Fear knocked Ricky down again, pinning him to the floor this time.

He ran his blade, hardly tarnished with blood, across Ricky’s chin, nicking the corner. Ricky tried to raise his knife filled hand to swing around and sink in Fear’s back, right in between the ribs. Fear caught it, and dragged an agonizingly slow cut across Ricky’s ribs, reopening where he had cut during their last encounter. Ricky screamed out in pain, frustrated that he’d also have to get more stitches.

“Slash marks the spot, Goldsworth. Say goodbye to your detective,” he raised his knife one more time to deliver the final blow.

“Wait,” Ricky breathed, Fear pausing his actions, “Do you remember which hand my dominant hand is?”

“Your right, but why would that matter?” Fear questioned, the realization slowly dawning on him.

Ricky took his dominant hand, the one with the actual blade in it, and drove it right up into Fear’s chest.

He grabbed the lapels of Fear’s vest and with a great push, turned the tables. He gave fear no chance to get his knife, kicking it away as soon as he had the chance. He then set to work on making sure Fear was actually gone. Little droplets of blood splashed onto his face and the untarnished sleeves of his shirt. The front of his shirt, as well as the collar on the left side, were already ruined by blood. His right leg was also still oozing blood. 

“Some rescuer you are,” a voice chimed from his side. Tinsley loomed over him and held a piece of duct tape in his hand, flicking it away, “Think ya got him?”

Ricky stayed silent, his body muscles relaxing as much as they could.

“C’mere, lemme see your injur- holy shit,” Tinsley began, starting to really observe Ricky’s status, “Uhhhhh, you think you can make it to the hospital?”

Ricky tried to stand up with the help of Tinsley, giving up on his right leg, “Can you carry me?”

“You’re not gonna make it, are you?”

“Not to a hospital, no,” Ricky informed, his words already sounding half gone.

“Okay, ummmm, lay down on this table, here, use my scarf as a head support thing.”

Ricky heard muffled yelling as he passed out, he hoped Tinsley would get his letter. He was ready to bid his goodbyes.

-

Tinsley stuffed his new light blue scarf under Ricky’s head, but Ricky ended up unconscious within the minute. That was not good.

“Ricky, Ricky!” He tapped Ricky’s cheek a couple times, deciding against shaking his torso any.

“Hey dumbass! Does  _ ANYONE  _ here know advanced first aid? Any doctors?” he yelled at the person that was supposed to be watching him.

“Why should I tell you? He killed my boss, after all. Now all I have to do is let him die, and the council can decide on one,” the man in the chair chuckled.

“Because you’re still alive, and I can make your existence literal hell if you don’t help me. Do. You. Understand,” Tinsley was on the verge of shouting, deciding to pick up Ricky’s bloodstained knife and place it blade down on the man’s throat, just as Ricky had threatened him.

“Yeah, the bartender, Albert, is trained to fix that kinda stuff.”

“Thank you for your service to the police, I might not arrest you after all,” Tinsley spat, running towards the door and throwing it open, hearing bottles clink as he threw it to the adjacent wall.

“Albert!”

A man with grey white hair approached him, “What do you need, sir? The bar’s closed, of course.”

“Can you give someone stitches? And a possible blood transfusion?” Tinsley desperately asked.  _ Why do I care so much? _ his brain chimed. The ‘reasonable’ answer would be  _ Probably because there’s a dying man, criminal or not, in the next room. _

“Yes, what’s the blood type? Let me grab my kit really fast,” Albert responded, dead serious.

“Oh thank god, I think he’s A negative,” Tinsley sighed in relief.

“Now stay back in the bar, make sure nobody comes in. I’ll take care of your friend. When you can come get him, I’ll let you know,” Albert had donned a pair of sterile gloves, walking on the scene with a suspicious cooler and first aid kit that was stuffed to the brim.

_ First it was ten minutes, then fifteen, then thirty.  _ At the thirty eight minute mark, Albert came back out.

“Help me take him to his room. You lift him, I don’t trust you with the cooler. I’ll help you set up a blood transfusion where he’s more comfortable. Be careful of his leg and chest. Those are the only two areas I provided care for, you’ll have to help him out with the rest when he regains consciousness.”

“Okay,” Tinsley lied, taking Ricky back to his own room with one queen bed and a couch. He set Ricky on the bed where Albert had told him, and watched the man set to work on getting a transfusion ready.

“So, what did you do before you were a bartender?”

“Worked as an ER nurse and a war doctor. I know a thing or two about stitching people up, and making sure that they don’t die,” Albert explained, placing the bag of blood he’d gotten on the nightstand next to the bed, “Which makes me the perfect carry around for a group of criminals who like to get shot and stabbed every two days.”

“Oh, didn’t know you worked for them too,” Tinsley added, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, pays the bills. Now come get your coat and scarf, this part takes a while.”

They retrieved Tinsley’s articles of clothing, picking up Ricky’s things as well. Tinsley walked out of the bar with 150 less dollars in his pocket, but he considered the money well spent, he supposed.

He waited for Albert to finish his check ins and the like, then he was set to wait for Ricky to wake up.

Tinsley felt like either pumping his fist or crushing Ricky in a hug when he woke up the next morning, in a lot of pain but other than that unharmed.

“Ugh, I feel like shit,” Ricky groaned.

“Well you should be happy to be alive, at least,” Tinsley sighed happily, “Let me get you some water, and I think I packed some aspirin but that might not be strong enough.”

Tinsley left to go pick up an early lunch while Ricky drank some water to rehydrate. He came back to Ricky examining the stitches on his chest and leg.

“Are there any on my face?”

“No, but we do have to clean that again today. He kinda just did a basic disinfecting of everything else so that it wouldn’t get infected. But he made sure that your chest and leg were clean as a whistle. I picked you up some ibuprofen,” Tinsley said, handing Ricky a yogurt and some pills.

“Nice, you better have thanked the guy for me.”

“I did. But I have some questions, ones that became very relevant when you almost died. Sometimes sitting up for hours and hours does that to people,” Tinsley gently said, still sitting on the side of the bed. Ricky shifted to sit next to Tinsley, still a respectable distance away. They turned to face each other.

“You may ask them,” Ricky nodded.

“Are you going to be okay?” Tinsley cautiously questioned

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“What went down when I was gone? I literally didn’t see you in two days, and you went off to Salt Lake and challenged the head of the hit man mafia,” Tinsley said, the irritation starting to build in his voice.

“You were right to warn me, but I already knew about it. I was a member, years ago. Fear banished me for some pretty silly things, and I trained to be able to put that knife in his chest last night. So I didn’t want to waste my opportunity,” Ricky calmly explained.

“What could you possibly have to gain? Because from what I can see you’ve killed 13 or more people here, sent me creepy notes that I can’t even show my boss, and on top of all of that you invite me to your gatherings and parties and talk to me like you and I are just normal people! And what do you want from me? You tell me that I can’t get you caught so it’s pointless to try, and don’t even-“

“You,” Ricky’s quiet and clear voice interrupted Tinsley’s clearly ‘hidden’ fury, Tinsley bluntly coming to a stop.

“What?”

“It started as my perfect revenge, people getting what they deserve; both in town and in the ‘hit man mafia’ as you so gently put it. A job to put me on top. But then I met you, detective. And if you must know, at first I thought of it as a game, same as the other one. I was going to drag you down with or without me. Then I talked to you, and I knew that you were different. Because you are. You astonished me with your intelligence, and your rough version of kindness, and your god awful sense of fashion and habits. I couldn’t stop seeing you if I tried. I want you, CC. You’re what I have to gain. All the good and the bad.”

The speech lacked all of Ricky’s usual hand speaking, gestures and sarcasm. Tears silently dropped down his face to hit his bandaged up chest as Tinsley stared on, shocked at the turn.

“And if you had asked me, at any time, to choose you, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I would have stopped the revenge plotting, and tried my damndest to keep it that way.”

They stood there for a moment, silence wrapping around them. Tinsley tried to process, think about what any of this was, what he was doing here. Why he’d saved someone who had taken the lives of others. A word escaped his mouth.

“Why?”

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

Ricky’s voice rose just above a normal volume, looking up at the detective with all the adoration in his eyes. Tinsley thought about the roses, the notes, the nicknames, the offhand remarks and jokes that he had thought were at his expense, even the goddamn crime scenes were all just Ricky’s  _ extremely  _ messed up way of tying his revenge and feelings together. He stood still, time passing by, Ricky still with tears flowing down his face.

“Say something,” Ricky began, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Please.”

Tinsley still stayed on the edge of the bed, somewhat in shock. They were still looking at each other, doe brown irises meeting deep dark coffee ones in an intense stare. 

They slowly leaned into each other’s space, and suddenly Tinsley could breathe again. He closed his eyes and let Ricky close the gap. He smelled like blood and his cologne and whatever hotel bar soap he’d used to wash Ricky’s face. Suddenly their lips met, in a soft press against one another.

Tinsley broke the kiss first, Ricky opening his eyes back up for a few seconds before Tinsley took his hand and used it to bring Ricky’s face back up to his. His lips were  _ achingly  _ soft and sweet, and his face was still cleanly shaven. His cheeks were still somewhat tear stained, and his lips were a little salty, but nothing could ruin this moment for him. If Tinsley had to pick one second to relive for his entire life, it would be this one. He decided to hold onto the feeling for a minute longer, before they backed off from one another again.

“Any more questions, detective?”

“Can we do that again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed. Still trying to figure out my posting schedule but I will still be posting every Friday. Love y’all, hope I was able to bring you some serotonin! Make sure to tune in next week!


	23. The Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip Anne lmaooo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back I think we only have 2 chapters left in this b but I might just decide to be spontaneous and add another because I’m spicy like that. Hope y’all aren’t confused by this development in the events. Enjoy!

Tinsley had stayed with him for the night, returning Ricky to his own hotel room after they gave Albert his equipment back. Tinsley lingered in the room as Ricky started plucking a suit out of his closet. They did get an odd stare at the clearly, almost cartoonishly oversized clothes on Ricky at the front desk. But it was that or a bloody and torn shirt with a substantial portion of one pant leg cut off. Ricky put those clothes in a bag, wanting to burn them later. His untouched jacket, vest, and tie went back on with a fresh shirt and pair of pants.

Tinsley helped him put on the ensemble, after he helped Ricky wash and dry his hair and face, making sure that he didn’t try to take a shower and get his stitches wet. 

“You have a ton of scars,” Tinsley commented, watching Ricky do his hair.

“Yeah, that’s kind of a hazard with the job.”

Tinsley let the silence wrap around them for a few minutes, before breaking it himself, “I’ve gotta get back. Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.”

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t do that even with you here. I am the Golden Hour Killer, you know,” Ricky chuckled, Tinsley rolling his eyes, “Still sensitive?”

“No shit, I’m supposed to put the cuffs on you.”

Ricky smirked, giving Tinsley a quick peck on the cheek. He handed him the clothes he’d worn on the way there in a small paper bag, “I’ll see you later, thanks for the save, Tinman.”

“Whatever Goldenboy,” Tinsley jeered, walking out of the hotel room, “I’ll see you later.”

-

Holly sat down for her afternoon tea, Claire on a long shift at the hospital for the day. She set down the cup on the coffee table to go find something to proofread upstairs. She had started marking up one of her articles that she was to submit next week when there was a knock at the door. She set down her papers again, walking up to see a familiar face when it opened.

“Hi Tinsley, come in,” she greeted warmly.

“Hey Holly, can I take my cat back?”

“Sure, what’s been on your mind? You have eyebags bigger and heavier than usual.”

“It’s Ricky. He’s killed Fear,” Tinsley vaguely explained, wishing to leave most of the details out.

“Tinsley! Don’t overwork yourself. I know you want to arrest him, but don’t go on trips and stuff just to get evidence! But you saw him do it? We can convict him, then get the evidence from his manor, then-“

Tinsley cut off her happy and concerned rant, “I don’t have the body, obviously. I don’t know where he put it either. I booked it out of there when he started stabbing the guy.”

“That makes sense, but we’ve still gotta be able to do  _ something,  _ Tinsley. That’s gotta be useful somehow, am I right? Maybe you can get a warrant or something, I don’t know.”

“I’ll figure something out, maybe,” Tinsley sighed.

“No, I want to help. Let me help you, Tinsley,” Holly set down her mug “Just this once. I hate him just as much as you, just let me have this one little act of revenge and I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” Holly begged.

“What could you have to offer?”

“I don’t know, my experience? My advice? Help with evidence or research?”

-

And that was the story of why he was at the precinct early on his Saturday morning, Holly cheerily in tow, excited to see where the case had gone. She was practically skipping behind him while he dragged his feet to his office. He had already taken her to his home office to look over the board he had there, and now it was time to look at some of the actual papers and fill out a search warrant for the captain to look over. He put his key in the door and discovered that it was already unlocked. He didn’t remember leaving it that way, maybe the captain had stopped by to look something over.

There was a lukewarm cup of coffee on top of an envelope on his desk. It said  _ The interrogation room. Now.  _ in handwriting that was basically as recognizable as his own. He made up some bad excuse about having to go warm up the mug of coffee while she looked at some files and left for the interrogation room.

Ricky sat there, leaning back in the metal chair as if it was his own house.

“Not the circumstances that you imagined me in here, are they?”

“No, but this might not be the last time you’re in here goldenboy,” Tinsley smiled upon seeing the smaller man’s large grin.

“What, you gonna use those cuffs on your belt and get some answers from me?” Ricky smirked.

“I’m going to take that professionally and say no,” Tinsley said, deciding to take a serious turn, “But you do have to pay for what you have done, Ricky. Lives aren’t something that come at an easy cost.”

“Ugh, they were all assholes anyways Tins,” Ricky rolled his eyes, “But anyways, this conversation isn’t what I came here for.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Welllll, I wanted to ask my absolute favorite detective out to dinner,” Ricky said, approaching Tinsley, “My treat. Your pick.”

“Are you asking me out, suspect? You are a wanted man, after all,” Tinsley teased.

“Will you say yes if I said I was?”

“Asking me out or a wanted man?”

“Yes,” Ricky winked.

“I suppose I’ll think about it,” Tinsley paused for a second, “Pick me up at 5 and you choose the restaurant. I’d probably pick a second rate burger joint. Let me know what I need to wear.”

“Yeah, yeah Tinman, I’ll get it. See you at-“ Ricky began walking away before Tinsley reached out and grabbed his wrist. He spun the smaller man around, leaning down to give him a small kiss, a press of lips that lasted a few seconds. “5.”

Tinsley went back to his office to finish discussing things with Holly, really not getting into it and still hiding some of the letters. He was glad that the flowers had long since died. They got about 4 hours of work done before Anne ran into him in the hallway.

“Hey Tinsley! I know this is kind of nowhere, but can you watch the office until Freddie gets back from his lunch? He just left but Ricky asked me out and I can’t say no because he’s actually showing interest in me for once and I don’t want to lose my chance at something greater you know?”

“Ummmm, yeah?” Tinsley responded, still a little confused. Ricky had kissed him less than 3 hours ago. And asked him out to dinner. He shrugged it off, knowing that Anne didn’t really stand a chance. She wasn’t the only person fishing for Ricky, and definitely not the prettiest.

“Okay thank you so much he’ll be back in like 10 minutes but I gotta go,” she quickly rambled, darting from the hallway. Tinsley got up and went to follow her to sit out at her desk for a few minutes in case anyone came in, which they rarely did.

He told Holly before he left, “Just keep reading, I’ll be back in like 10.”

“What’s up?”

“Anne just needs me to watch something for a minute.”

He went off to her desk and started reading some dumb gossip magazine that she had on her desk for a few minutes. Some cops greeted him confusedly, expecting the bubbly ginger instead of a quiet detective. He tried his best to be as friendly as she would be to the people entering the department, which weren’t many. But it still bothered him somewhat to think about what was going on, because  _ what was going on?  _ Ricky was clearly into him, right? Why does he keep leading Anne on? Why does she still think she has a chance among all the other suitors Ricky had to choose from? Maybe he’d go to the Manor early.

-

Ricky was going to tie this all together with a pretty bow for Tinsley. He was going to finish the case, though Tinsley had technically solved it. He had his fair share of the blame game, so he knew how to play. He first extended an invite for an afternoon tea with one of the local rich pretty faces that showed up at his parties. Then he had some thinking to do. Who was he going to end up pinning this on, and who could he do it without Tinsley getting on his ass about it. Tinsley still probably would be angry, but he’d understand. Eventually.

He extended that invite a little later, really a last minute choice. He’d see what fruits he could reap from that choice. The girl, Vanessa, was in the parlor in a pretty deep red dress, that flared out at her waist, very obviously worn with a petticoat. She’d even got her makeup done, presumably by her maid. It was a shame that he’d have to break it off in less than a few weeks.

He went to the kitchen to finish up collecting the tea and cookies, when he heard a quiet knock at the front door.  _ Perfect,  _ he thought, putting the final few shortbreads on a tray. He left the tray in the kitchen, opening the door and pulling Anne to the kitchen.

“Ricky? What are you doing?” she asked, a little loudly.

“Shhhh, I have someone here,” Ricky whispered with a smile.

“What do you mean?”

“You love me, right? It’s pretty obvious. Don’t worry though, I’ve been crazy about you for forever,” he quickly explained.

“What? Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” she pouted. “You could have any girl in town, you know. Why now?”

“Well my parents didn’t want me dating for a while, so that I could focus on my studies, but then it was just an act that projected my insecurities about myself and committing to a relationship that would eventually end in tragedy. But now, I can’t deny it any longer.” He clasped her hands and placed them over his heart. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I want us to have a future. I want to take all my money and run off with you. This girl, the one that’s in the parlor, is one that my mother wants me to marry. They know it’s getting late for me, but I’ve made my choice.” Ricky took a deep, dramatic breath. “I choose you.”

“This is all so out of the blue Ricky, but I’m glad that you were finally able to come out of your shell. I knew that you always had something for me, I really felt our connection,” Anne tucked her hair behind her ear, “I love you too, and I would love nothing more than to run away together. It’s all just so romantic. What are we going to do about the girl in the parlor?” Anne asked, looking very believing of the act.

“I need you to do something. Something that you might not like, but I’ll be able to help if you can get it started,” he pulled a knife out of the knife block, followed by a second one. He gave the one that resembled the one he used to do it all to Anne, “But we need to get rid of her. Permanently. Maybe then we won’t even have to run away. We could live in the Manor, happy and even married.”

“Ricky, we can’t just kill her, that’s wrong.”

“You need to make a choice Anne. You’ve been waiting for this, waiting for  _ me  _ for so long. Are you really going to give it all up for one single, insignificant person? I thought you loved me, but you need to make a choice. It’s us, or her. Years of your life for just one single life. Your dream come true.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Anne began, “Maybe she won’t be that missed after all.”

“That brings me so much joy to hear that from you. I love you so much darling,” he promised, handing over the knife and giving her a peck on the cheek, trying not to gag afterwards. He’d made the right choice, that was for sure. But how to bring Tinsley onto his idea? He’d think that through before the dinner, “Wait here for like twenty minutes then come into the parlor to the left of the ballroom. We’ll do it together, don’t worry.”

He grabbed the tray and left a starstruck Anne behind in the kitchen, knife still in hand. He put the knife that he had grabbed for himself into a piece of fruit. 

“Ricky, why couldn’t you just get your butler to get the tea? You do have one, after all,” Vanessa giggled upon his return.

“Because I like things to be presented in a certain way. And my butler can’t do it right,” he slightly cringed at demeaning the Mayor to just ‘butler’ status.

“Well thank you for inviting me over, I really appreciate the taste in music too. Classy.”

“Ah yes, a woman of my own tastes,” Ricky sighed. They politely talked over cups of hot tea and sweets, including fresh fruit. 

Anne came into the room precisely twenty minutes later, not looking particularly murderous, but she wasn’t looking regretful either.

“Excuse me, who are you?” Vanessa asked, her eyes narrowed.

“I'm the one who’s gonna set Ricky free,” Anne proclaimed, taking a few steps forward. Her voice was insincere, and almost empty for some odd reason, but it was good enough.

“What?” she questioned, then noticing the knife, “Ricky, she’s got a knife.”

“Stay calm Vanessa,” Ricky explained, Anne taking a lunge at Vanessa. She entirely missed, but it was enough. “Vanessa run!” Ricky yelled, helping her along. He quickly ran out and locked the door, standing against the frame as she struggled to get it back open.

“Go get the Mayor to call the cops!”

“Who?” Vanessa asked shakily.

“The butler! Or call them yourself, I have no preference, just hurry!”

Anne had begun to yell and cuss, giving up the struggle a lot sooner than Ricky had thought that she would’ve. There were no sounds of sobbing in the room either. Strange, but not really if you knew what he’d found out from his new friends at the League. A surprise to him for sure, but once he really thought about what kind of person Fear was about his enemies, not really. He decided to whisper into the crack of the door, a small message that he knew was coming.

“It’s a shame that it had to end this way, but, it did have to end this way.”

“You asshole! I trusted you!” Her voice sounded empty, as if she was just shouting the words as lines on a page.

“That was a big mistake on your part missy,” he quietly growled. He ran down the hall to Vanessa, who just got off the phone with an officer.

“They’re sending someone down.”

“Good. I’ve got her contained to a room, so hopefully she’ll stay there. I always knew she was crazy, but I didn’t know that her breaking point would be then. I’m so sorry Vanessa. Come downstairs, let’s get you something nice to drink and some leftover shortbread or some other sweets,” Ricky kindly and almost genuinely explained. Vanessa bought it, hook, line, and sinker. This was going to be easier than he thought, at least if Tinsley wasn’t going to be a baby about it.

“Thank you so much. Could you drive me home after if the police still aren’t here?”

“I can’t do that, sorry. They’ll want to take your statement. I just don’t know how she got in the house. Tea? Coffee? Maybe something a little stronger?” he asked, pulling out a decanter of something dark and strong for himself. He wasn’t usually a whiskey or bourbon guy, but today he was going to have a few fingers as a reward. Vanessa took the entire decanter and poured herself a solid four fingers of the stuff and slammed it down, leaving Ricky shocked and a little impressed.

“What, you never seen a girl that likes to stress drink before?” Vanessa asked almost defensively, still a little tense about the fact that she’d almost gotten killed less than ten minutes ago.

“No, no, you’re fine. But let’s get you something that won’t get you drunk before your statement maybe. Are you hurt at all? Did she touch you?”

“I’m fine, how are you? Why would she do that?”

“I’m okay, we should be safe until the cops get here. I always had a suspicion about her. Can I tell you something that might seem totally crazy but when I explain it might actually make sense?”

“Uh, sure. Not like this day could get much crazier as is,” Vanessa sighed, pouring herself another glass.

“You know all the killings that went on late last year? I honestly think it was her. Every single one of the people that died were either close with me or had a grudge against me. And today, with you, that just kind of, put the pieces together, ya know? I know it might sound totally crazy, but I’ve just been thinking recently,” he threw in a sigh or two for an extra dramatic effect.

“You know what? That actually,” she paused, “does make some sense. She was always an oddball, but she wasn’t any more or less obsessive of you than anybody else. But I suppose she wouldn’t have to be, just the right mindset can turn any obsession into-“

Suddenly Anne burst through the door again, knife still in hand. She actually had a murderous rage in her green eyes this time, her sights set on both of them. Vanessa had no time to get out of the way, and her small frame went down quite easily. Anne ruthlessly plunged the blade in over and over, Ricky standing in place. He was actually quite impressed at her sudden resolve. She got up and quickly set her sights on Ricky.

“You bastard,” she growled.

“Think some things over in that room, now did we?”

“I did, bitch. You’re gonna blame me for trying, and now succeeding to kill that little slut, and maybe something else. But I’m not just gonna let you. I’ll just run, it shouldn't be too hard. I’m just a secretary with no roots. I could just go out into the woods. Or something. I’ll teach you to not be rude to a girl ever again, at least in hell.”

Ricky rolled his eyes, “Are you done with your little speech? Because I do have a little surprise for you before you put that knife to use again.”

“What? Do you have some last words or something?” Anne asked, approaching Ricky.

“Yeah, I want you to know something. Fear should be more careful when he tries to put a plant on me. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I’m no dumbass. Your black widow act is quite smart, if I’m being honest. But once I let that old man choke on his blood you didn’t know what to do, so you just decided that the new boss would probably continue your orders, huh? Sadly that new boss happens to be me.”

Anne struggled with some words for a minute, “Well, I suppose you would find out eventually. It was quite hard to pretend to fall for such a cold hearted son of a bitch. Seriously, would it have killed you to give at least one of those girls a chance? At least I don’t have to fake a personality. Would’ve loved to collect all that money though, and your estate would fetch quite the pretty penny. Shame that she had to die.”

“A true shame.”

“Not so shameful about you though. If you’ll excuse me, I have a throat to slit and I only have about 2 minutes before the police get here.”

“Such a shame to waste your talents, but I suppose that is how life must be,” Ricky sighed.

“What?”

Suddenly Ricky pulled out his own weapon, a gun that he always made sure to keep in the kitchen. He fired five shots directly at her. She looked down shocked at her injuries, red pouring down her front.

“Well, this is certainly a way to go,” she choked, Ricky slipping on his pair of dish gloves. The cops would be here in less than a minute, and he had to make sure everything looked perfect. He added the final few stabs to Vanessa to complete the presentation and chucked an envelope in Anne’s pocket. After he placed the knife back one Anne and got rid of the bloody gloves, he knelt next to Vanessa as a cop yelled in the foyer.

He turned on the waterworks and started yelling, “In the kitchen! Help me please!”

-

When he walked out to the department and saw a blood covered Ricky, he nearly had a small panic attack until he noticed the lack of cuffs. Captain Saunders looked to be comforting him, and his face was red and puffy as if he’d been crying recently. He suddenly got a lot more worried as to what had happened. It likely wasn’t Ricky’s blood, but he couldn’t help but worry. Captain Saunders suddenly noticed him in the entry to the hall.

“Tinsley! I think that we got the answers to your case for ya right here! Why don’t you take Mister Goldsworth to the interrogation room and we should be by to start the questions with you in two minutes or so. It will be me and maybe one other officer, don’t worry. Make sure he’s comfortable, okay?”

“Yes Captain,” Tinsley responded, guiding Ricky towards the room, “Right this way sir.”

Once they were alone in the hallway, Tinsley suddenly stopped.

“What happened to you? Why are you here? And most importantly, who’s blood is currently caked on your shirt?”

“I’m helping you finish your case without sending me to prison, now c’mon we don’t have much time. We might have to postpone date night too, things got a little messy in the plan.”

The questioning went smoothly, and Ricky was quite the talented actor. By the end of the night nearly everyone in the room was on his side, if they weren’t already. Tinsley was mostly angry, but he decided to save his own questions for later. He would have a lot of work to do, but not as much as Ricky’s statement was quite lengthy and detailed. He gave solid reasoning behind most of his claims and only told what he knew to be the ‘truth’.

He sat in his office and thought, deciding to call Ricky to set the date for tomorrow night. He had some questions that he couldn’t necessarily ask in front of his boss and coworkers that wouldn’t incriminate him too. But for now, he would just think it through for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you have questions/you enjoyed it please drop a comment (or a kudos if you enjoyed). Thanks for tuning in this week, hope to see you next time. I’m also doing some planning for another fic that I might decide to share if it is worthy 😎. Have a great week haha.


	24. Decisions, Decisions, All of Them Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinsley goes out to dinner and makes some tough choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goooood morning/afternoon/evening esteemed readers! Hope you’re enjoying the ending that I’ve concocted, and sorry that this chapter is super late (the holiday season is a b haha). Please enjoy what you’re about to read, and I will have that last chapter out before the 22nd!

**Chapter 24**

Tinsley was finishing up Ricky’s statement paperwork in his office the following morning, still trying to process what the hell had even happened yesterday. And he hadn’t even heard the uncensored version yet. The Captain had let some things slip to the press, as he was sure that this was going to be case closed. And as long as Tinsley played along, it would be.  _ But would he play along?  _ He took a deep breath and picked up his pen again, tapping the capped pen against paper for a minute.

Holly came in the door, looking particularly frazzled, with a copy of that morning’s newspaper in her hand. She simply plopped herself down in a chair and slapped the paper down in front of him.

“Golden Hour Killer Found! Town icon Richard Goldsworth helps Detective Tinsley close the case. Wanna explain that, hotshot? What the hell is going on?”

Tinsley sighed and kept flipping through the thick and detailed packet that was Ricky’s statement, the typed up version, “When I know I’ll tell you.”

“No, I think you misunderstood me here. Why are you letting him go? What the hell happened to make you want to acquit the little bastard?” she questioned, this time more harshly.

“He makes quite the case Holly. If I accused him and there really were no holes in his statement, which I doubt there were since two of three witnesses to the event are dead, I could get called crazy and destroy my already almost nonexistent rep. Which isn’t good, by the way.”

She sat there and crossed her arms, a ‘really?’ look decorating her face.

Tinsley sighed, “Look, I don’t like it either Holly. It stinks. But the Captain believes the guy. So do the press. So does everyone and anyone else in this department and practically the tri-county area, if we’re being honest. It’s not going to be easy to just accuse the person that knows how to play the victim so well that he could be the next Chopin if it was an instrument. I’m just going to have to go with it, my hands are tied unless new evidence presents itself.”

“C’mon Tinsley, both you and I know that he can’t just get away with it. We need to give these victims actual closure, not just slapping the ‘bad guy’ label on whoever presents the opportunity first. It’s not right, and I know it wouldn’t sit right with either of us.”

“I can’t Holly, no matter what the world may have to say. If someone can get me concrete proof, or even me getting myself concrete proof, I can’t step up and say anything. You can look through the statement yourself. And the officer’s statement. All of them say the exact same thing, that’s pretty hard to just uproot for the cause of justice. Saunders would call me crazy. He’d say that the sleep deprivation and caffeine had finally gotten to me and ship me back off somewhere boring. I need to give these families and loved ones closure, it’s been upwards of 6 months since the first murder.”

“But you’ll promise to keep working on it, right?” Holly eyed him somewhat suspiciously, “We need to put someone behind bars for this,  _ you  _ need to put someone behind bars for this. And we both know who.”

“Yeah yeah, now will you let me finish my paperwork so I can get this whole ordeal behind me for now? I don’t feel any better about this than you,” Tinsley sighed.

“Really? Do you really feel bad? Tinsley, you can’t just acquit someone without promising to me that you  _ will  _ put him behind bars for this. He deserves it, and I deserve your promise. In case you couldn’t tell, the second you got in my car we were in this together.”

“I get it, I get it. Make sure that Ricky gets what he deserves, which is prison, and promise you that I’ll never stop searching for justice for the victims and their families. I do, by the way. I promise that I’ll find justice for them. It’s part of the job description,” he smiled almost genuinely, but he knew Holly wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.  _ Because it was only a half lie _ , his brain chimed.

“Alright then, I wish you the best on your quest, detective,” Holly shook his hand and left back through the door she came, with no more noise than the door closing.

As soon as the door closed, an officer that looked surprisingly akin to Fred, maybe twenty years or so older, opened it back up. He did grace the detective with a knock and a head poke before full entry to the office.

“So you’re Officer Long, I’m assuming,” Tinsley got up out of his chair to give the officer a handshake.

“Ah, you’ve met Fred then. He’s a good kid, huh,” Long beamed, accepting Tinsley’s hand.

“Quite an interesting one,” Tinsley responded with a small sense of second hand pride. Not everyone could raise a kid to be interested in the family business. Especially when that family business in question was police work.

“We’re going to head over to the girls apartment to get some more evidence, if you wanted to come along. Maybe you could give us some more insight as to what we should be looking for.”

“Sure, just let me clean up here really fast. What’s the address?” Tinsley asked, plucking a pen out of his mug and his notebook from his pocket.

“554 beaker road, apartment number 26. Should be pretty easy to find, we’ll have the place closed off to the public eye,” he paused, “Well, as close as we can get to ‘closed off’.”

“Sounds great, I should be there when I can.”

-

He showed up at the apartment roughly twenty minutes later, and the few forensic scientists and officers there were really working hard, scrutinizing the place for all sorts of things, anything really. He looked through the evidence bags that they’d already collected, and there was surprisingly more than he would’ve thought to be there. Ricky must’ve been busy after he left the department last night.

“Tinsley! You can go through her office if you’d like, make sure to put a pair of gloves on.”

He stalked off to the room, snapping a pair of gloves onto his hands. 

The office room was bland and simple, probably barely used in Anne’s life. It had a sewing machine, and was most likely used more as a sewing room than anything else. Tinsley did notice something odd, however. There was a dresser, and wigs, in the office as well. He went through the drawers, finding countless sets of clothes, some of them seemed like they would fit Anne, some didn’t. There were articles of clothing that a teen would wear, and others that he would see his grandmother in, god rest her soul. That was odd, but maybe Anne just got them from a grandparent or relative and managed to be able to fit into her clothes from her earlier years. He shut the drawers, but a little card fell to the floor when he struggled to shut the second one from the top.

Tinsley picked up the small business card. He nearly dropped it to the floor again when he saw the logo and name on the card. The logo was that of the league’s, and looked to be relatively tattered. The name on the card only further confirmed his suspicions, as it was the ID card of one  _ Analise Becker.  _ Tinsley quickly slips the card in his pocket to ask Ricky about later.  _ Is this why he targeted her?  _ He continued to rummage through the office, finding a few weapons that he put in an evidence bag and moved onto the living room. The only interesting thing in there, it seemed, were the few bottles of wine sitting in a little cupboard. He decided to rummage through the little storage space she did have.

He could admit, she did have good taste in fictional literature.  _ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland  _ stood out amongst the more mature novels. A fully illustrated version too, with her name scribbled on it in crayon at the beginning. She had quite decent handwriting as a kid. He found some slips of paper in the books, some with names or addresses on them. One stood out from the bunch, as it had one of the addresses that he and Ricky had visited to find Fear. He supposed that she would know that as a member of the League, but why write it down?

He took a breath out in the hallway, taking his gloves off and putting them in a disposal bin. He was pretty sure that he was done there, and once Officer Long had dismissed him he made sure to drive straight home. He wasn’t going to tempt himself with any evidence reports that evening.

He unlocked the door to his apartment, finding it a little chilly once inside. He cautiously approached the kitchen, gun in hands. He went to sweep around the corner, and once he was sure that he’d searched the house he returned to the kitchen. He sighed and stood in place for a minute.

“I know you’re there, Ricky. Please stop breaking into my house.”

“Hey handsome,” a low voice chimed from almost right behind him.

“Why are you here, you’re about an hour and a half early. And I’m not particularly happy with you right now either, Goldsworth,” Tinsley huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ouch, back to last names then, are we? I’m still going to give you nicknames, of course. I thought I’d come to tell you what to wear. Can’t have you looking like you usually do at a nice restaurant, now can I?” Ricky questioned, fiddling with Tinsley’s tie.

“Cut it out, I  _ said _ I’m not happy with you,” Tinsley swatted the smaller man away, choosing to keep him at arm's length. He folded his arms over his chest again.

“Fine fine, sorry for wanting to show  _ affection  _ to someone who obviously lacks it,” Ricky sighed dramatically, “But seriously. Wear a suit, I’ll be by to pick you up in two hours, I could only get a reservation then. Don’t ruin your dinner either, I want to get you a treat.”

“For cooperating with your ‘closure’ of the case?” Tinsley quirked an eyebrow, almost rolling his eyes at Ricky.

“You  _ are  _ going to be a good little detective and close the case, aren’t you? It would be a damn shame to have to get rid of you, I do like you.”

“We’ll see how I’m feeling when Saunders wants to take it entirely public,” Tinsley snapped back.

“That’s cold, detective.”

“And who said I had to be warm to someone like you? I might think you’re a pretty face and a charming guy, but I meant what I said. Someone has to pay for this, and that someone has to be you,” Tinsley reasserted.

“We’ll deal with this later, I can explain after I get some business done. I’ve got a league to run, so if you’ll excuse me.”

He angrily glided out the door, clearly put off by Tinsley’s last statement. He really was quite the petty and pretentious bastard sometimes. He was akin to a rude cat. Buddy would never even try to do anything like that. Tinsley sat on his couch with said cat, contemplating his options for tonight.

He could go and try to find out what the hell was going on in Ricky’s brain or go to enjoy himself, or he could stay home and try to figure out how the holy hell he was supposed to get Ricky blamed for this whole mess. He was still quite the popular figure in the eyes of whole generations in the town. He supposed his top two deciding questions were if he wanted to make things work with Ricky and if he was okay with being in a closeted relationship with a murderer.

Neither question had an easy answer in his eyes. He did like the idea of finally ‘settling down’ with someone his own speed, even if it was Ricky. Marriage had been a tricky field in that aspect for him, nobody could seem to understand or process things with him. He’d never dated anyone but Amelia, and she was off in a mental hospital with severe burn scars and possible severe head trauma. He’d never cared to check back in after she’d been labeled as comatose. Ricky would also be able to defend himself against any of his more unsavory ‘fans’. But he still couldn’t ignore all the lives that had been ruined or cut short by Ricky. Nobody should have to go through that same grieving process as him, as nobody should have to hear that their loved one was found stabbed in an alley. Especially if the detective was banging the murderer and keeping the truth quiet.  _ Well you haven’t done THAT with him,  _ Tinsley’s brain reasoned.  _ Yet. _

He eventually decided that he would go and decide why on the way. Buddy followed his lead to the closet, losing interest about halfway to the bedroom to go to the office. 

-

By the time that Ricky had returned, he donned his navy suit and shaved the 5 o’clock shadow that had begun to make an appearance on his face. Right before Ricky knocked on the door, he decided on a final act of rebellion. He was going to wear his trenchcoat. 

Ricky looked just about as dolled up as ever, wearing a grey vest and pair of pants. He had a grey wool overcoat over his arm, and a pair of shiny black shoes.

“Nice choice,” he commented, “You look good.”

Tinsley laughed a little, “You look good, for an asshole.”

“Is that going to be the obligatory response when you find me attractive from now on? Because I’m not entirely against it,” Ricky smirked, beginning down the hallway.

“You’re just trying to get out of the doghouse.”

“At least I won’t be sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s what you think,” Tinsley announced, shutting the door on his side of the car.

Tinsley turned on the radio, letting some quiet music fill the time between when they left and when they got to the restaurant. It looked to be quite the fancy place, it even had valet parking. Definitely prettier than any place he could’ve chosen.  _ The Nightingale. _

Ricky had booked them a booth off to the side, inconspicuous so that they could discuss whatever Tinsley wanted to discuss. Which did involve murder, so he was glad for the privacy. They got themselves settled and waited for the waitress to take their drink orders.

“Just water for me,” Tinsley chimed from his half of the booth.

“And for you Mister Goldsworth?”

“I’ll start the night off with a Manhattan, thank you,” Ricky smiled, a little bit of tired energy making its way into his words.

“I’ll get those right out for you,” the blonde waitress announced, leaving the table.

“Getting drunk already, are we?”

“Well I can see that tonight is not going to go the way I wanted it to, so gotta be prepared,” Ricky sighed, “What do you want to know?”

“Why Anne? As far as I was aware, she was just a somewhat annoying secretary. But then I found this in her apartment,” he said, placing the card from his pocket down in front of Ricky, “and things started to fall too short of ‘adding up’. So tell me, what’s the play here?”

“This is the endgame, dear Tinsley. I didn’t want to go to prison, so I had to find a scapegoat to tie up this whole mess. You’re right, Anne did work for Fear. She was actually supposed to be a spy that he pinned on me to get rid of me. I pondered it for a while and decided that she was probably going to be a thorn in my side, and the opportunity presented itself when she still hadn’t made contact with hq after Fear died. So I decided to take the chance, because originally I was going to pin it on you and Holly. Then the _ ‘you’  _ in question just happened to get on my good side. So I decided that she was the one that had to go,” Ricky explained, flipping through the menu.

“But why let the other girl die? Vanessa? She could’ve helped your case.”

“Tinsley,” Ricky sighed, “When you’re in this business for as long as I’ve been, you learn to trust no civilian to keep their mouth shut. And I wanted to make it look more convincing anyways. I will be paying for her funeral expenses, however, if that eases your mind at all.”

“No it kinda doesn’t-“ Tinsley cut himself off, seeing the waitress approach again, “So I told her- oh thank you!”

“Can we start with some pan con tomate?” Ricky politely asked.

“Yes sir, I’ll have that right out for you.”

“You’ll like it, it’s not too complex,” he reassured Tinsley as the waitress walked away.

“You better hope I do,” he sighed, “Ricky, I’m just gonna come clean. I want to make this thing work, but it’s hard to ignore the evidence against you here.”

“Not like you’ve done any better in the dating aspect,” Ricky sassily snapped, taking a sip of his drink.

“Then there’s your attitude.”

“What’re you going to do about it, Tinman? I thought of a solution, you didn’t have one. Tell me, do you have a better plan? Or even a plan to accuse me successfully,” Ricky huffed, tired of having this conversation, “Just give in, go off ‘detectiving’ other cases. I’m sure that there are plenty around Los Angeles if you want to make the drive every day. It’s not too far.”

“What, so I’m supposed to just let you get away with thirteen deaths and go off to solve random cases in a city that’s a 45 minute drive up the coast? All while dating the person who’s behind thirteen deaths where I currently take residence, to add another layer to that.”

“Yep. You’re pretty perceptive. But seriously, think about it. It would make both of our lives so much easier if you did,” Ricky smirked, “I could even get the Captain to sign you over, hotshot.”

“Here you go, either of you know what you want to order yet?” the waitress butted back into the conversation for a minute.

“I’ve never been here, any suggestions?” Tinsley questioned, putting on a fake smile. It was surprisingly more easy than he would’ve liked.

“My personal favorite is the patatas bravas, they’re kind of like fried potatoes with tomato sauce.”

“I think I’ll try that then.”

“I’ll be having the spicy chorizo soup,” Ricky smiled, handing back his menu. Tinsley followed suit.

“Well Tinsley I don’t know what else to tell you. I kinda already tied it up all nice and pretty with a bow for you and your little police friends. You can try the mountain climb of convicting me, or you can take the easy way out like everyone else here.”

Tinsley decided to try some of the food that was placed in front of him. It looked like bread with tomato sauce on it, but boy did it taste so much better than that.

“Like that? My grandmother on my mother’s side used to make it. She taught me how to as well.”

“No need to brag about your cooking ability,” Tinsley laughed.

Ricky proceeded to ramble about his family until the food had arrived. It smelled too mouth watering to be humanly healthy, but since when did Tinsley eat anything healthy anyways.

He went to take a bite of the food placed in front of him, noticing the sudden kick of the sauce on top of the potatoes.

He swallowed the bite that was currently in his mouth and quickly watched as Ricky realized what had happened and started laughing harder than he’d ever seen Ricky laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Tinsley asked, taking a few gulps of his water.

“It’s spicy, isn’t it?” Ricky laughed out.

“And it’s not spicy to you, I’m assuming.”

“Y-you’d be right there pal,” he continued to wheeze before a glare from Tinsley made him reduce the laughing and start on his soup with a large smile.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” Tinsley allowed himself a small smile as the words came out of his mouth.

_ Guess that settles things,  _ he thought as he dug back into the  slightly spicy dish. Ricky tried to poach a potato or two off of Tinsley’s plate. Tinsley gave up trying to fight his fork off after the third attempt or so.

“That’s not very proper, Goldsworth. But I’ll allow it.”

“As if you know what ‘proper’ means. You’ve been using your salad fork this whole time, dipshit.” 

Tinsley’s voice suddenly dropped to a defensive whisper, “And you didn’t say anything?!”

That only made Ricky laugh again, though less severely than the last time, “It’s cute, don’t worry about it.”

“Well you better teach me for next time,” Tinsley eventually announced.

“Next time? So I’m assuming you’ve made your choice then,” Ricky beamed, signing the check that the waitress had brought them earlier.

“Yeah yeah goldenboy. Let’s go get some ice cream or something. My mouth is still slightly uncomfortable,” he looped his arm around Ricky’s shoulders as they made their way outside the restaurant.

“Whatever you want, tinman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, and as our story comes to an end, thank you for tuning in and please feel free to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed or if you have feedback! Love y’all and have a happy winter holiday whatever it may be.


	25. Case Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot look of the next few years of Ricky and Tinsley’s lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy everyone! Welcome to the final installment of this book! If you’re still here, thank you, if you just joined us: welcome welcome. Hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this story, and thanks for coming along on this journey with me. This was my first complete book, and it was quite the task to write it for me.

And he did decide to close the case, for good. The press had closed things off relatively quickly, and with the overwhelming evidence that the police had found at her apartment, nobody questioned it. Tinsley had helped Holly to realize that Ricky would never get what he deserved, but she still had no clue about their true relationship. But the truth of the matter is that Ricky would have never gotten to court, much less jail.

And ironically, once his birthday came around, Ricky had decided to get him an empty photo album for his birthday.

_ “You can even put all those sunset photos that you have in there, if you want,” Ricky smiled, going into the kitchen to bring out his birthday cake. _

_ “I don’t even have a camera, but I appreciate the thought,” Tinsley said, pulling out Ricky’s second present. _

_ “Well that’s the point, we make memories together. You have the album, I have the camera. Also you can’t open that until I get back,” Ricky said, not even being able to see Tinsley. _

_ Tinsley decided to open it anyway. It was one of his own trench coats, one of the two that had gone missing a month or so ago. There was no damage done to it, and it did smell nice and clean. He was sure Ricky had even ironed out some of the wrinkles if there were any. _

_ “Hey! I knew you took them, now where’s the other one?” _

_ “I said to wait for me, but I’ll never tell. Now come over here and blow out your candles,” Ricky teased. _

And so, Tinsley did. He captured their most memorable moments, from the mundane to the crazy. The first few pages were filled with the Golden Hour killer’s photos addressed to Tinsley, with some of the letters folded up and tucked behind the picture that they came with. The next was one of Tinsley blowing out his candles on his birthday, the (then) empty photo album next to him on the table.

They took pictures at Francesca and Banjo’s wedding:

_ “Okay, I know that you wanted to be maid of honor, but you’re a boy Ricky,” Fran laughed over the reception lunch. _

_ “Yeah, no need to steal my job hon,” Mia declared loudly from Francesca’s side _

_ “Beautiful ceremony, and I mean truly stunning, but imagine me, in one of your bridesmaid dresses, and add that to the overall aesthetic,” Ricky mentioned, taking a sip of his champagne. _

_ “I think I’ll have to agree with Ricky on this one Fran,” Banjo chimed in, in the middle of the two’s jokingly heated conversation. _

_ “I second that,” Tinsley added from Ricky’s side. _

_ “Okay: discussion about me in a dress aside, it’s time for a toast,” Ricky stood up, clinking his glass, “Attention everyone, yes that means everyone. I would like to make a toast to the groom first. Banjo, you might be one of the stupidest people I know but you make Fransesca happy. Your vows to her were the best words I’ve heard come out of your mouth besides ‘I’m going to let Francesca plan my outfit’. And despite the initial impressions I had about you, you’re funny and kind hearted. Never let those traits fail you in the coming years of your marriage. And to the beautiful bride, Francesca, you are like my sister. I hope this man treats you right, and I know that you already will treat him right. What the road ahead brings for you two, I do not know. But your bond will allow you to forge that path together. Let nobody bring you down, and congratulations to the both of you,” he paused briefly to wipe some tears from his eyes before almost quietly finishing, “Cheers.” _

_ “Cheers,” chimed from around the room. _

_ After some equally emotional toasts from the bridesmaids and an even more emotional toast from Banjo, Legs stood up from the end of the head table. _

_ “Okay, enough being happy-sad, I’ve cried enough tears for today. Let’s cut the cake!” _

_ Banjo offered his hand out to Francesca, leading her over to their wedding cake with Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ painted on part of it. The colors of the wedding were coordinated similarly. Mainly white, but dark blue, yellow, and dark green decorated the floral arrangements on the table as well as the table settings themselves. The bridesmaids and groomsmen wore yellow and blue.  _

_ They sliced into the cake, or more accurately, Francesca cut the cake. The crowd that had gathered around them started to count down from five. Their wedding photographer got ready to capture the moment for the wedding album. _

_ Banjo nicely pressed his bite into Fran’s mouth, making sure not to smear her makeup because he didn’t want to die at the hands of his new wife on his wedding day. Fran decided to smudge her handful in and around Banjo’s general mouth area, colorful frostings mixing in his beard. _

_ As everyone laughed, Tinsley handed Banjo a napkin from the nearest refreshment table. *Click*. Ricky had gotten a clear shot of the whole scene, cake threatening to spill off of Banjo’s short beard and all. _

_ Luckily he caught the pieces before they fell onto his cobalt blue suit and embroidered tie. _

_ As everyone finished up their dessert, whether it be cake or some of the other assorted goodies, the couple of the night got ready for their first dance. _

_ Mia cleared the floor as people started to gather around it, who were hovering a little too closely in her opinion. The band began playing ‘If I Could Write a Book’. _

_ They swayed around the dance floor, Francesca’s white cap sleeves and tea length white skirt that faded to yellow at the tips flaring out when Banjo occasionally twirled her. Her short hair stayed in it’s updo, adorned with sunflowers and pearls. _

_ A few more romantic dances with more couples followed, then Francesca danced with her father. All Tinsley could say is that he saw where Fran got most of her looks from. They did a bit more of a coordinated dance. Neither of them had two left feet, that was for sure. _

_ The rest of the photos that went in Ricky and Tinsley’s album were mainly devoted to the progressively drunk dancing on the floor, and one picture of the group before the whole ceremony, while everyone’s makeup was still perfect and outfits were still as straightened out as possible. _

And Ricky’s rather large 28th birthday celebration, with snapshots of him getting a handful of cake directly to the face, courtesy of Francesca, and a new camera (with film!) courtesy of Tinsley.

And some certain individuals gaining certain pieces of jewelry.

_ Tinsley had begged Ricky to go on a christmas vacation for months, somewhere with snow. And a lot of it, at that. The last holiday had made him realize how much he did miss the cold, the actual cold. _

_ “C’mon, I’ve lasted for one whole snowless Christmas,” Tinsley pleaded. _

_ “I can’t cancel my party because you want to have a White Christmas. Where would we even go?” Ricky massaged his forehead, the irritation from the day as a whole finally getting to him. _

_ “I’d figure that out. And we could bring your friends,” Tinsley thought, a new strategy entering his mind. It was about time Ricky got some of his own persuasion methods used on him. He walked around to the back of Ricky’s chair, “Or…” _

_ He started to massage Ricky’s shoulders, Ricky easily melting into his touch, “Or what, Tinman?” _

_ “Or, it could just be the two of us. Alone, in a desolate cabin in the woods, Thursday through Monday. And right around Christmas time too,” he got low to Ricky’s ear for his next statement, using a low whisper, “I’ve got some presents I’ve been meaning to give you.” _

_ Ricky grabbed Tinsley’s tie, flipping around, now on his feet. He pulled Tinsley into his space. _

_ “If I say yes, hypothetically, could I get one of these ‘presents’ early?” He whispered against Tinsley’s lips, making direct eye contact. _

_ “Always so eager,” Tinsley grabbed Ricky’s chin and pulled him into a long kiss, “But no presents until the transaction is complete.” _

_ “Even if I say pretty please?” _

_ “Nope,” Tinsley chirped back. He stepped back from Ricky to return to his previous spot in the room. _

_ “Tease,” Ricky huffed, sitting back down at his desk and reaching for the phone. _

_ They were at a set of dual cabins within the next two weeks. _

_ On Christmas Eve, they spent part of the night over in the second cabin with Night, Legs, and Mia. They had a nice dinner together, though Ricky was still tense about having to cancel plans for the Christmas Eve Ball. _

_ “So are you two a thing now?” Mia questioned, completely unfazed by her own question. _

_ “MIA!” Night whisper shouted, swatting at Mia. _

_ “Well you and Legs are the ones that I overheard talking about ‘choking on the sexual tension whenever those two are in the room’.” _

_ “Mia Reyes!” Both Night and Legs exclaimed, actually raising their voices. _

_ “Well based on the fact that Ricky is dying of laughter and Tinsley just about spat out his bite of food, I’m gonna say that y’all are totally a couple.” _

_ “Uh, yeah, but please tell us that you don’t usually ask people that way,” Tinsley stuttered out. _

_ “It’s direct, and to the point. I see no problem with it.” _

_ “I have a quick item of business to cover, if I may be excused,” Legs stood up from the table, going out the door. _

_ He slipped Night an envelope before he left though, unnoticed by the other dinner guests. They finished dinner with no other extreme incidents, and Tinsley offered to wash the dishes while Mia, Ricky and Night set up for their small cocktail party that was gonna happen soon. Night opened the envelope after excusing himself to go to the restroom. _

Follow the candles at 6. Tell nobody where you are.

_ He checked his watch, and it was 5:56. He got a headstart on the invite, sneaking out the porch door while Mia was distracted throwing a handful of suds at Tinsley. Clearly he shot first, as part of her hair had a small handful of bubbles in it. _

_ A few minutes later, Ricky noticed the lack of not one, but two of their companions. He went on a small search through the two story cabin, finding neither of them. He decided to leave Mia and Tinsley to set up the remainder of the supplies for the evening, going on a quick mission to find them. _

_ He followed a now only half lit path of candles into a little alcove in the trees. Legs was on one knee, and Ricky only heard part of the conversation, not wanting to be caught. _

_ “I’ve loved you for years, and I’m so glad to have ever had you in my life. I want to take this to the next level of commitment. I know that you’re not big on flashy ceremonies, but we don’t need one. I only need you, dear. I’ve only ever needed you, since law school and beyond. We’ve been through thick and thin, from starting both of our businesses to crying together on the couch when we heard that we were gonna make it after all. Which is why,” he paused, clearly emotional, “I’m asking you to be mine, forever. In this peaceful grove, with the trees as our witnesses. Be mine, Bergara.” _

_ In the dim lantern light, Night only nodded as he said, voice shaky with emotion, “Shut up and give me the ring, you big old sap. You know I’m already yours, and you’re mine. _

_ Ricky rolled his eyes, not wanting to see any more of this sappy shit, or god forbid, a make out session. He walked back to the cabin quickly and quietly in the same pair of footprints that he had gotten into the grove with. _

_ The cocktail party, as well as the rest of the vacation yielded about ten full pages of pictures to add to their collection. Tinsley even managed to catch some of his new friends skiing for the first time, with rental skis of course. Some were just in the forest that they were staying in. But some of them, some of them were downright filthy, Tinsley would admit. Which is why he offered to drive them home the day that they had to leave. _

And some more birthdays, their first anniversary, partially moving into each other’s houses, unnerving photos that Ricky has sent Tinsley while on business trips that Tinsley for some reason found endearing enough to save, rainstorms spent inside, more of Ricky’s famous parties and perfect costumes and outfits, friend gatherings, cat pics, and even a new job setting for Tinsley, bringing them to about a month before the second anniversary of Tinsley living in California. The album was about three quarters of the way full with pictures that ranged from sweet to silly to something else entirely. They’d even gotten some particularly attractive shots of the both of them in, in small sketches by Ricky, or when the both of them got dressed up for an event and decided to take photos.

Then they got their own bands. And made their own vows. Tinsley wrote on two small notecards, one day in mid July. He was going to ask Ricky to marry him.

_ They were flipping through their album on the beach, watching the beginnings of a beautiful sunset, of which Ricky wanted to capture on his new camera. They were still careful enough, as they were in public, but that didn’t stop them from flipping through their memories. _

_ Tinsley got more and more nervous as Ricky got closer and closer to the page where two cards lay in two of the spaces. _

_ “I’ve chased you for long enough, I think it’s time that this case comes to a close?” Ricky questioned, “When did you add this? And more importantly, what does it mean?” _

_ “Well Ricky, I think you’re quite the catch, for an asshole, so I think it’s time that I ask you: Will you marry me?” _

_ “I think you’re quite the catch too, for a detective,” he began, “So it should come as no surprise to you when I say yes.” _

_ “Well I was saving our rings for when we could both buy each other rings, and more importantly for the wedding because I think it’s illogical to spend money on both an engagement and a wedding ring.” _

_ “God, that is so you, but let’s not ruin the moment with finances, so let’s take some photos for the album and start some wedding plans, shall we?” _

And that brings them to today, August 5th, 1955. They’d only invited their closest friends and for Ricky, family. The small crowd watching consisted only of Banjo, Fran, Mia, Night, Holly, Claire, the Mayor, and Lucy Goldsworth, who would not miss her son’s wedding for the world, regardless of who he was going to marry (seriously he probably could’ve married the Joker and she would still be there). Legs was the officiator for no particular reason. Banjo and Fran were going to be in charge of photography for the event.

It was obviously hosted at the manor, in the ballroom. Ricky had made most of the decor and coloring choices, even decorating his own custom treats and cocktails for the event. Tinsley didn’t mind, he was okay with not even having a ceremony if he was honest. But now, as he stood in the white, black, and gold clad ballroom, he was impressed that even the bouquets on the table were the exact same as the one he’d given Tinsley years ago. From the black table cloths and the white table settings to the chosen menu of both of their favorite foods (a feat), no detail was spared in Ricky Goldsworth’s (surprisingly less expensive than Tinsley had anticipated) vision.

But as he stood across from the man in front of him, in a suit that was the exact opposite color combination as his, he couldn’t help but to let the scene around him fall away. All he could see were Ricky’s beautifully dark brown eyes, and Ricky’s hair and his perfect lips and jawline.

“Okay, before we begin, please shut up,” Legs raised his voice to silence the room, standing at a microphone instead of an altar, as he insisted, “Now that we got that straight, welcome to the wedding of one Ricky Goldsworth and Charles Clyde Tinsley, or as all of you know them; Ricky and Tinsley! Now this whole thing is pretty much legally not real, but we will be treating it as such seeing as how nobody here cares about that. They are a real couple and deserve a wedding as such. So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’d like to welcome the parents or guardians of the aforementioned men to give their blessing.”

Claire and Holly stepped up by Tinsley, followed by the Mayor and Lucy standing by Ricky.

Claire went first, with tears in her eyes, “Tinsley, I’m so glad that you were able to find love again, and I wish you both the best for the rest of your lives.”

“As you know, I was the more reluctant person upon hearing the news, and I was almost shocked to get the invite hand delivered by you. But I’ll be damned if I don’t love you like a child, CC. And sitting here today, I can see that you truly love him, and as someone who cares about you, I can tell that he’ll be good for you. So Ricky, treat my boy well. He’s the second best thing to have ever happened to me,” Holly got a little choked up at the end, her eyes somewhat glossy. Tinsley pulled them both into a hug, a brief but satisfying enough one.

The crowd turned to Ricky’s side, with his two ‘parents’. 

“Ricky, my son, I have to say that when I realized I wouldn’t be getting grandchildren I was a little disappointed, but then I remembered that life only gives you one true love. Tinsley is quite obviously yours. That’s why I feel comfortable handing you off to this clearly capable detective, and I feel more than comfortable saying that I wish the both of you the best years of your life together,” Lucy actually let some tears spill, the Mayor offering her a kerchief.

“You may not be my biological son, and I’m definitely too old to be your biological father, but I am more than happy to be up here today. You might be one of the most dramatic, strange, and overall most criminal Goldsworths that I’ve known, but here I am today. I watched you grow up in this very house, and I heard all your rants and drama. Which is why I’m  _ more  _ than glad to say that you two deserve each other, finally. And do try to stay out of trouble, Ricky. Tinsley, keep him  _ out _ of trouble, for as long as you can. For an old man,” the Mayor calmly spoke, a joyful smile on his face.

“Thank you to the parents, now our lovely couple has chosen a piece of literature to read that they like, then we’ll move on to the written vows,” Legs, adjusted his packet to the poem that they had chosen together, and began to read. “A stranger came to the door at eve,

And he spoke the bridegroom fair.

He bore a green-white stick in his hand,

And, for all burden, care.

He asked with the eyes more than the lips

For a shelter for the night,

And he turned and looked at the road afar

Without a window light.

The bridegroom came forth into the porch

With, “Let us look at the sky,

And question what of the night to be,

Stranger, you and I.”

The woodbine leaves littered the yard,

The woodbine berries were blue,

Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;

“Stranger, I wish I knew.”

Within, the bride in the dusk alone

Bent over the open fire,

Her face rose-red with the glowing coal

And the thought of the heart’s desire.

The bridegroom looked at the weary road,

Yet saw but her within,

And wished her heart in a case of gold

And pinned with a silver pin.

The bridegroom thought it little to give

A dole of bread, a purse,

A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,

Or for the rich a curse;

But whether or not a man was asked

To mar the love of two

by harboring woe in the bridal house,

The bridegroom wished he knew.

Hope you enjoyed, that was Love and a Question by Robert Frost everyone. Now onto your written vows, gentlemen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go first,” Tinsley said, pulling out a slip of paper, “They’re not too long, but anyways. Richard Goldsworth, when I first met you at that Halloween party I thought you were a huge asshole. I was not proven to be entirely wrong on that one. You were brash, made horrible decisions, and from my perspective, rude. But over the months that I came to know you, through our conversations together, both the good and the bad; the light painted you in a different way. You are smart, cunning, hilarious, and very caring and loyal to the people that are blessed enough to get on your good side. I’m glad you allowed me to see that side of you. Over the many months that I have known you, I’ve only managed to find more and more reasons to love you. Though that may not take away the negatives, it does give me more pieces to the puzzle that is Ricky Goldsworth. And I love solving every piece of you, bit by bit. I’m excited to keep finding those pieces to the never ending puzzle that is you in the coming years of our relationship,” he took a deep shuddering breath, the emotions finally coming to hit him right in the gut, and apparently the lungs.

“So I’m proud, on this day, and for the remainder of my days, to call you my own. All the good and the not so good. You’re the most strangely beautiful creature on this green earth that I’ve managed to encounter, and I love you. I love you Ricky. And I promise that I’ll always try my best to be the most amazing guy that you’ve ever been near. I promise to always listen, and to always keep you in my heart. I will promise to always support you in all your endeavors. I promise you, that I will never stop loving you, if you’ll have me.”

Ricky took the microphone from Tinsley’s hand as he wiped some of his tears away. Ricky did the same.

“Well, now that you’ve got me crying my eyes out, I suppose now I have to read off my vows,” Ricky laughed through the tears, pulling out his own slips of paper out of his white vest pocket.

“Charles Clyde Tinsley. I think I’ve summed up what I initially thought about you in all of our previous conversations about it, so I will not be bringing it up in front of our lovely company today. But what I will do is talk about our journey since that initial feeling of intense, mutual, hatred. When we were at the fountain that night on Halloween, I would pinpoint that as the moment that I took an interest in you, not really knowing what was behind it. But when I woke up in that hospital in Vegas for the first time I knew I was utterly fucked. The first thing I asked myself mentally was “why him??”. Then, months of denial later, I confessed to you. And I was terrified every second of it. But then you kissed me and everything was okay again, and I knew it would all work out,” the tears were freely flowing from Ricky’s eyes, some of them falling down to hit the cards in his shaky hands.

“And the rest, as they say, is history. So here we are today, in the same place where we first laid eyes on each other, saying all sorts of sappy stuff before we tie the knot. All that being said though, I gotta say CC, that you’re one of the good ones. I’m glad that I met you, you have changed me for the better. You’re every good thing that has happened to me. I love you, Charles Clyde, and I will never stop doing so. You are the most intelligent person I know, and I hope that life will never stomp out your thirst for knowledge. Keep using your brain to help others, because, well I love that even more. I will continue to enjoy our time together, ‘til the day I die; whether it be shot dead in an alley or at the ripe old age of 70,” Ricky had to pause and take another deep breath before continuing onto his promises, “I promise you to be understanding and accommodating to your needs. I promise to let you chase whatever opportunity you want, and I promise to help you to the best of my ability whenever I have the chance. I’ll take whatever you choose to give me, Tinsley, and I’ll love you forever my tall Tinman, as long as you’ll have me.”

Tinsley nodded, trying to swallow his own tears. Lucy was too far gone in her own pool of tears at that point to return, but the other guests seemed to have it under control after a few seconds. Legs took a few deep breaths as he returned to the microphone.

“Crap, you guys really know how to hit a guy in the feels, huh? That was beautiful, the both of you. But now I must ask our ring bearer to come up and present the rings,” Legs gestured to Buddy, tearing two paper bags from his collar, “Here you guys go.”

Tinsley’s ring was a simple platinum band with a message engraved on the inside: ‘Case Closed’. Ricky’s was a gold band with a singular obsidian stripe wrapped around the middle.

“It’s beautiful Tins!” Ricky exclaimed, seeing his ring in his soon to be husband’s hand.

“Well let me put it on you then,” Tinsley chuckled, slipping the ring onto Ricky’s finger gently.

“Well before I put yours on, I hope you enjoy the message,” Ricky quipped, slipping Tinsley’s on.

“Ready for your more traditional vows boys?” Legs began, “I’ll take your staring at me while holding hands as a yes. Do you, Charles Clyde Tinsley, take Richard Goldsworth to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and kahoots, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Richard Goldsworth, take Charles Clyde Tinsley to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and kahoots, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“So, by the power vested in me by nobody in particular, you are now husband and husband. Well, I suppose the only thing y’all have to do now is smooch each other. Have at it then!”

Tinsley pressed a short but sweet kiss to Ricky’s lips, the group before them cheering. They heard multiple clicks of the camera from Fran and Banjo, as well as a few that were scattered throughout the ceremony.

“Well everyone, thank you so much for coming. If you want to move to the tables for a nice dinner and dessert before the ‘reception’ part of our evening, we have prepared some interesting options for you guys,” Ricky took the mic, gesturing over to the tables that he’d set up. Pretty much all the guests fit at one table, and the other was decorated in food or flowers, so the seating arrangement was non negotiable. 

Throughout the short meal, only a few people went out of their way to make a toast to the couple; Fran had a short but sweet message, Night had a lengthier message that was equally as kind, and finally Mia just had a few words to say on the subject.

The Mayor brought out the cake that Ricky had decorated. It was black, with streaks and splatters of gold across the two tiers. The couple cut their cake together, both of them deciding that it would be a genius idea to smash a large handful of frosting and chocolate coffee cake all over the other’s mouth, nose and part of their cheeks. *click*.

“Don’t inhale it all at once,” Mia laughed.

“Absolute children, now I see why people say you deserve each other,” Lucy stepped up, handing both of them a clean cloth napkin and guiding them over to a trash can.

“Sorry mom,” Ricky sighed, starting to wipe off the sticky mixture.

“Mayor, be a dear and go grab these two gentlemen a damp cloth please and thank you,” Lucy began again.

“No problem, miss,” The Mayor chimed, playing off the rest of his laughter as a cough.

A few minutes later, they returned faces free of cake. 

“So, anyone else want some?” Tinsley questioned, picking up the cake knife, which in this case was Ricky’s favorite knife.

“Sure, looks like you two enjoyed it at least,” Mia stated, stepping up to the scene with a dessert plate.

Others soon followed, and with the cake mostly eaten they moved onto the final part of the night, the dancing. Ricky and Tinsley stepped onto the floor that made them seem so small without countless other couples twirling around them too. But they listened to the record player play the same song that they had first danced to, Tinsley now knowing the official moves to the dance, and they spun, stepped and swayed their way across the dance floor. In the slowly dying sunlight, Ricky looked almost ethereal in his white and gold, his black shirt being the only offset to the ensemble. His white shoes, shined to perfection, executed every step as they made their way through the movements. Tinsley wore the opposite, all black with a white shirt. The ballroom melted away to the rose gardens that night, suits turning into the pirate and officer costumes. But suddenly Tinsley knew all the movements as they danced around the fountain.

“Hey Tinman?”

“What is it, Goldenboy?”

“I love you,” he hummed, staring directly into Tinsley’s eyes.

“I love you too,” Tinsley added, pressing their cheeks together as they continued to dance.

He only stepped on Ricky’s foot once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a tale. Again, thank you so much for reading this. And thank you for tuning in one last time. Y’all are real great people. As always, make sure to leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed, I always appreciate reading y’alls feedback. Have a wonderful week and a happy holiday everyone!


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